


All The Ways

by TwoBoys2Love



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Curious Sam Winchester, Domestic Winchesters, Hurt Sam Winchester, Jealous Dean, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, No Castiel, Protective Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, UST, Wincest - Freeform, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 62,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoBoys2Love/pseuds/TwoBoys2Love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean Winchester grew up in an entirely different world. When the boys were very young their mother was killed by Creepers - or as we might know them, Zombies. Sam and Dean were raised on the road as killers and hunters. Then one day, when Sam admits he has an interest in meeting other people Dean must face the possibility of a future without his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Created for spn_j2_bigbang Thank you so much to thruterryseyes for being so enthusiastic and such a great partner to work with! I absolutely love her art; it completes the story.
> 
> Thanks Fiercelynormal for beta-ing

Dean wasn't sure he could actually remember a time before the Colkan Viral Outbreak. There were times when he thought he could but that could be just stories that his father had told him so many times they were ingrained on his mind.  
  
Colkan, not because of some fancy doctor, but because the first case was traced back to some travelling salesman on the Colorado/Kansas border. One day, some poor guy got out of his car with a fever; less than four hours later his wife was calling 911 because he was trying to eat her face.  
  
At first, the on-call emergency workers had thought it was the swine flu. It turned out this new virus didn't come from pigs or chickens though. There were rumours that the CDC was covering up that the virus had been engineered by the government but there were always rumors like that. Hard as it was to believe though, it seemed like it was the truth.  
  
Yes.  
  
A government created the virus, no doubt, backed by private donations from the very same people who would be dead within the first month.  
  
Whatever the cause, however, it was created and the fact remained that there was no cure. There wasn't really any way to even give people relief from the symptoms. From the moment of infection it was only a matter of hours before death came knocking at the door. It was a better alternative than staying alive for some people though.  
  
Dean remembered a lot of blood, sweat, sores that busted open and oozed and then … the after.  
  
Dean was pretty sure he had read every horror book he'd ever laid hands on so he would never be able to call them anything other than zombies.  
  
The fevers went up so high that peoples' brains were literally cooked. All scarred up and half crippled, boiled brains, they were dead, and yet they didn't stop moving. And they certainly seemed to continue to be hungry.  
  
The medical community denied and then ignored; they advised and then refused to take more patients. Emergency rooms closed, people began dying in the streets and, if they were lucky enough, in their homes.  
  
It was terrifying for people at first. After a while, it was even more terrifying.  
  
The zombies didn't sleep, they didn't talk, and they definitely weren't whoever they had been before they had contracted the virus.  
  
There were people who were immune to the airborne virus, people like Dean and his family. But there weren't nearly enough of them to control the  _rest_  of the population.  
  
It had all happened damn fast. One minute things were under control and the next minute they weren't. People began to leave the cities if they were able to. Then the roads began to get blocked up. Those who stayed behind began to run out of things...and it just continued like that.  
  
It had gone just like it had in all the books Dean had read. Even John Winchester had agreed.  
  
The senior Winchester had been a great dad when Dean was little. They'd played baseball, he taught Dean how to swim and shoot hoops. He had laughed a lot, loved his wife Mary with all his heart and barbecued on the weekends.  
  
Dean remembered parts of the night everything changed with such clarity it remained painfully fresh.  
  
It had all happened in Sammy's room. Samuel ( _named after your Grandpa, Dean_ ) Winchester. He was Dean's little brother. He cried a lot, smelled really bad sometimes and was really loud. Dean's opinion of his sibling wouldn't change much as the years passed.  
  
That's what Dean always told Sammy anyway. What Dean actually remembered was that he was entranced by Sammy the moment he'd first seen him. The littlest Winchester had chubby little cheeks and a tiny little mouth that made little smacking sounds when he was hungry.  
  
When Dean had first looked into his baby brother's eyes he'd been convinced that those tiny slanted peepers were  _knowing_. It seemed like baby Sammy could understand everything that Dean said to him. When Dean told Sammy tales about things he had discovered in the back yard, the baby would press his lips together and his eyes would widen under his long, silky lashes.  
  
It didn't seem like their parents believed that Sam could understand Dean: The would watch Dean tell his baby brother stories and they would smile one of those weird adult smiles that showed they knew  _so_  much more than their children.  
  
It was only years later that Dean began to understand what all those looks had meant. It was mostly love. Dean knew that because he'd never seem that same smile on his father's face again after the night in Sammy's bedroom.  
  
Dean had been nestled in between his parents on the couch. His legs were draped over his mother's lap, his head crammed under his father's arm and up against the man's ribs.  
  
The news was on. Dean hated it. Even though he was five years old. Almost six. He didn't want to listen the the news. It always made his parents look as though they were tired and sick. It didn't seem worth it.  
  
What he did like was staying up later than the baby and having his parents all to himself.  
  
Baby Sammy had let out a scream in the middle of a news story about people being sick and hospitals (Dean would understand much later in life.) The wail from Sammy's room had lured Mary from her comfy spot on the couch and down the hall to the baby blue bedroom.  
  
That was where Dean's memories became less clear. There were some strange sounds from down the hall and then Dean had been pushed gently out from under his father's arm.  
  
John hadn't moved as though he was worried or scared so Dean had gone back to watching the TV that was spouting numbers and words he didn't understand.  
  
It was a loud crash that finally got Dean's complete attention. It sounded like glass had smashed and then his father's voice had called out something muffled.  
  
Dean had jumped off the couch and padded down the hallway. The scene in baby Sammy's room was seared into Dean's memory. It was as though he'd taken a crystal clear snap shot that evening. It would never fade or wrinkle; it would always be there.  
  
Dean's dad was crouched on the carpeted floor and cradling Mary's body close to his. Dean thought her fingers twitched; her hand small and pale in his father's.  
  
There was blood - lots of it - and when Dean had turned his small face away from all the patches of red he saw a gaping hole smashed through the bedroom window.  
  
The jagged edges of the broken glass were sparkling in the moonlight and Dean stared up at it for a while.  
  
"Dean. Can you get Sammy out of his crib by yourself?"  
  
Dean turned his gaze over to the wooden bars of the crib. He had managed to learn how to pull the side of the crib down. His mama had told him he wasn't supposed to do it by himself but Dean figured it wasn't the time to bring that up.  
  
"Yes, Sir," Dean said.  
  
"Good boy." John Winchester's eyes softened for the briefest moment. It was his  _Dad_  look. Sometimes, he would look at one of his sons and his face would look different. Dean always thought of it as a warm look and one that was full of love.  
  
Dean padded over to the crib and managed to slide the side of it down while listening to his dad.  
  
"Son, I need you to get Sammy. Wrap him up in his blanket. You hold on to him real tight and take him down to the car. Get in the back."  
  
 _The car_  was one of Dean's favorite places. It was in perfect condition, even back then.  
  
"Get yourself and Sammy settled in the back seat. Close the car doors and lock them. Do  _not_  leave the garage, you hear me?"  
  
As Dean nodded he bundled his little brother up and gathered the blanket cocoon close to his body. He glanced down at his mama but he couldn't see her face.  
  
"Your mama loves you, Dean. Now you take Sammy and don't look back, no matter what."  
  
Much later, years having passed, Dean would find out what happened once he'd left Sammy's room. He came upon his father late one night after the man had swallowed enough fiery whisky to loosen his lips and release the locks on his imprisoned pain.  
  
John Winchester had told his grown son about the night he had fled the nursery with his brother clutched to his chest.  
  
It was a zombie that had smashed through the nursery window. Mary had been in the room to check on baby Sammy. He'd let out a cry that had drawn Mary from the couch in the living room.  
  
The couch where Dean was so safe and sound without a care in the world.  
  
That last moments Dean had seen his mother alive.  
  
He knew it was the last moments of life because John had told him that Mary had been dead when she's been lying in her husband's arms. Dean hadn't seen her move; he'd just remembered it because he wanted to. At least, that was how it was explained to him.  
  
The creature that had busted through the bedroom window had torn Mary's throat out with its jagged, yellow teeth. All that red blood that Dean had seen had drained slowly from his mother's body.  
  
John had smashed a lamp into the hellish creature's skull again and again until it had staggered and fallen back through the shattered window.  
  
But his father hadn't been fast enough. Those disgusting teeth had already done their damage to Mary's neck.  
  
Dean wondered, sometimes, if there had been a smattering of heartbeats left in Mary's chest as her son stood there cradling his baby brother in his arms. Maybe there were a few breaths left in her lungs and Mary had known that Dean took care of Sammy. For some reason, that felt important.  
  
Dean  _really_  wanted his mother to know that he had taken his father's orders very seriously.  
  
Dean had never let go of Sammy. For years Dean had held on.  
  


  
  
  
It had been  _very_  late one night when Dean was old enough to be cocky and too young to worry about consequences when the final pieces of the puzzle had been revealed.  
  
John had finished the majority of a bottle of whisky. This was the time before John's drinking reached a fever pitch, but it was a little unpredictable. Dean had yet to learn that asking his father a question after a few too many drinks would result in an answer filtered through the caustic bite of drunkenness.  
  
Dean had asked his father what had  _really_  happened that night so long ago in Sam's nursery.  
  
The expression on John's face was cold as ice, frightening in a way Dean had never experienced before.  
  
But the slurred words told Dean the story he'd been previously spared.  
  
A creeper had smashed through the nursery window. It had been moments from snatching up Sammy in its clawed hands. According to John and the whisky, the creeper's flesh was mottled and green; rotten and peeling away from bone in some places.  
  
As Dean had backed away slowly his father's words had trailed after him.  
  
Mary had distracted the creeper from little Sammy and John had rushed into the nursery in time to yank the creeper off his wife. A huge bite of soft, pink flesh had been torn from Mary's throat.. It  _was_  her blood that Dean had seen spreading like spilled paint around his mother's body.  
  
What Dean had been too young to understand, at the time, was that John Winchester had already heard on the radio that the death sentence of a disease had mutated. Even people who were immune to the initial wave of the plague could be infected by blood to blood contact. The CDC had announced the retro-virus had mutated.  
  
Mary would have turned. But Dean would never find out if his mother was already some kind of monster when he stood there beside her that night. He would never find out the end of the story because he ran. Even though John continued his torturous tale, Dean ran until he could no longer hear the words and then he ran some more. It seemed he had inherited  _that_  from his father.  
  
There was only one thing that would turn Dean back from his escape and that was Sammy.  
  
He couldn't leave his little brother alone. And that is what Sam would have been if he was left with John Winchester.  
  
Their father wasn't a cruel man but losing the love of his life had been the beginning of John's end. Some people just love too much and when they have nothing left to love things go wrong.  
  
So.  
  
Dean had decided to remember different things. He remembered the sensation of being rocked to sleep in the back seat of the Impala as they covered hundreds of miles at night. Dean tried to remember the clean smile of baby Sammy and the way his tiny fingers curled around Dean's thumb.  
  
Those bleary-eyed memories became Dean's past. The sharp edges of it were sanded off and Dean could find a way to be content.  
  
And there was always Sammy. And the voices on the radio lulled Dean to sleep night after night.  
  


  
  
  
_-= Eleven years later =-_  
  
The passenger seat of the Impala didn't seem as comfortable to Dean once he'd turned sixteen. It felt like he had grown over a foot in about six months. It was a pain in the ass. All his pants were too short and he never felt really comfortable in his own skin, let alone the car.  
  
Shifting restlessly Dean twisted around until he could see the back seat. Twelve year old Sam was sprawled gracelessly across the entire seat. Sam had shot up too.  
  
"Dad, you think Sam's done growin'?"  
  
John Winchester lifted an eyebrow then, without taking his eyes off the road, he shook his head. "You worried he's gonna be taller than you?"  
  
"What? No!" That wasn't the way things worked in Dean's mind. He was the older brother so he didn't much care whether Sam was taller. Nor did he think Sam could pull that off.  
  
The expression on John's face was sceptical but he didn't contradict Dean.  
  
"I'm worried he won't fit in the back seat if he keeps on growin'," Dean muttered.  
  
They'd been driving since the early hours of the morning and Dean was restless. All his muscles felt like they were buzzing and it was getting hard for him to stay still.  
  
On the other hand, Sam  _Dumbass_  Winchester, was having no trouble sleeping the journey away. It was the  _only_  good thing about riding in the back seat.  
  
He'd never admit it aloud, but the main reason Dean always called dibs on the front seat was because he felt a little trapped in the back.  
  
It was dumb, he knew. He'd never been trapped anywhere his entire life so he had no reason to be  _at all_  claustrophobic. It wasn't really something that Dean wanted to explore.  
  
"What city we sleepin' in, Dad?" A different place every few days; that was the life of the Winchester men. The only one who seemed at all bothered by it was Sammy. But then, Sam had never had a home. Not once had they lived anywhere that was _home_.  
  
But then, how could they?  
  
Dean turned so he could rest his forehead against the window and watch the scenery rush by.  
  
Thirty-six and counting. Dean had seen thirty-six zombies since they'd begun travelling that morning. That wasn't too bad considering the distance they'd covered.  
  
"You ready to stop, Dean?" There was something distant in John Winchester's voice. He sounded a hundred miles away but Dean was used to that.  
  
He waited until his dad was looking over towards him and then nodded. "Sammy needs to run around some."  
  
John did a double take. Dean wasn't sure whether it was because his dad thought it was a ridiculous request or because he was surprised that Dean had come up with it.  
  
They spent a lot of time in the car, and Dean watched his little brother a  _lot_. One of the new Sammy developments was that he got pretty cranky if he didn't get some time outside every now and then.  
  
"Okay," John said slowly.  
  
For a few moments, Dean wondered if he was going to catch hell for his suggestion but his father just kept driving.  
  
Soon enough, a loud yawn from the back seat got Dean's attention. When he peered over his shoulder he was greeted by his little brother's smiling face.  
  
Sam's cheeks were the colour of summer peaches. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead from where he'd had his face pressed up against the leather seat and his hair was practically standing on end.  
  
Over the years, Sam had learned how to sleep through pretty much anything. Music wouldn't keep him awake nor would the roaring engine of the wind tearing in through an open window. Nothing kept Sam from sleeping.  
  
Well, there was one thing. If their father was pissed off at Dean, Sam wouldn't even close his eyes for a moment.  
  
For some reason, Sam seemed to feel it was his role to play peacemaker. It was an impossible task he'd set himself.  
  
There were days when everything Dean did managed to irritate their father. There was something about Sam's little upturned face that defused the bomb in John's brain most times.  
  
That day would end on a good note. Dean might even be able to sneak outside with his little brother so they could try and pretend to be normal.  
  


  
  
  
By the time John reached the bottom of his bottle of cheap whisky, Sam was sprawled on one of the double beds. His skinny limbs were flung out and he looked like an overgrown starfish.  
  
Dean had spent about half an hour boarding up the front window and the small bathroom window. The door was pretty strong so he left it. The locks still worked and the run-down motel seemed like it was in the middle of nowhere. It seemed safe enough.  
  
John was fond of saying that it  _always seemed safe enough_  until there was a half rotten human trying to chow down on your neck.  
  
When the bottle on the table in front of John was empty Dean cleared his throat.  
  
John didn't move.  
  
Dean slid off the edge of the musty old mattress of the second bed and walked over to his little brother. After a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure their Dad was out cold, Dean sat down on the bed.  
  
For a few moments he smiled at his brother's floppy hair and rosy cheeks. Sam's chest rose and fell slowly as his slept; he seemed so peaceful it was almost a shame to wake him.  _Almost._  
  
Grinning, Dean leaned down and slid his hand over Sam's mouth before shaking the boy's shoulder gently.  
  
Sam's hazel eyes popped open and he jumped slightly. Then his eyes settled on Dean's face and he relaxed visibly.  
  
"Roof time or are you too tired?" Dean whispered.  
  
With Dean's hand still over his mouth Sam rolled his eyes. Dean only just managed to stifle a snort of laughter. His little brother might only be twelve years old but he already had the contrary attitude of a teenager.  
  
They moved quietly and quickly. They'd gone through the motions hundreds of times over the years.  
  
The had found one refuge consistently no matter where they went: the roof.  
  
After lifting Sammy up until he could grab the gutter, Dean walked down to the end of the parking lot to use a rickety old fence as a fragile ladder.  
  
By the time Dean got up onto the weather-beaten roof Sammy had crept down to wait for him.  
  
Sam's eyes were bright in the moonlight and, for some crazy reason, that made Dean smile. There weren't enough times in his little brother's life when he looked happy. A climb up to the roof didn't seem like much, but then, when you had nothing every little thing counted.  
  
Sam plunked himself down on the sandpapery shingles and leaned against Dean's shoulder. "You're thinkin' real hard. Your face always scrunches up like you're smellin' something bad."  
  
Not much got past Sammy but he always seemed particularly attuned to his older brother.  
  
While nodding Dean slipped his hand in the back pocket of his jeans. "Just thinkin' about how much you've grown up." It was at least partly true.  
  
Dean held out a slightly bent chocolate bar and Sam snatched it up lightning fast. "No  _way_."c  
  
The chocolate bar had been inside a freezer in one of the houses that Dean and John had hit during a search for food and gas. It was a Crispy Crunch; one of Sam's favorites.  
  
Tearing the wrapper to shreds, Sam hurried to the chocolate inside. He stared at it for a while and then broke it in half. As he took a bite of one corner he held the second half out to his brother.  
  
"S'okay. You have it." Dean wasn't going to take any of the chocolate away from Sam after managing to hide it from their father for three days. And there was a small bottle in Dean's jacket pocket that he'd swiped from his Dad's stash.  
  
The moment Dean pulled the beer bottle out of his pocket, he could see Sam's shoulders tense up. "Sam?"  
  
Without looking up, Sam answered quietly. "Yeah?"  
  
"You good?"  
  
Sam nodded. He set the untouched half of the chocolate bar down on some of the shredded wrapper.  
  
Even though Dean knew that Sam didn't like it when he drank he opened the bottle and took a swig.  
  
Sam needed to learn that all the problems of their father hadn't been passed down to his sons. Besides, it wasn't like Dean actually managed to get a bottle very often. Their father was pretty adept at spotting them.  
  
"Why so quiet, Sammy?"  
  
Before he spoke, Sam wrapped up the remainder of the chocolate and slipped it into his jacket pocket. "Don't like that stuff."  
  
There was an expression on Sam's face that went far beyond his years.  
  
"I'm fine, Sammy." As if to prove it to his little brother, Dean put the top back on the bottle and slipped it into his pocket one more. "Dad drinks because he can't stop thinking."  
  
"Too much bad stuff?"  
  
Sam knew their mother had been taken from them by a creeper but he didn't know all the details that Dean did. Dean figured there was nothing to be gained by dragging Sam through all of the horror. It wasn't as though Sam had any  _good_  memories of their mother.  
  
"He misses her," Sam said softly. His shoulders sagged and he leaned into his brother's side.  
  
"He does," Dean agreed. When he felt Sam shiver, Dean slipped his arm over his brother's slender shoulders.  
  
Sam had begun to get taller in the previous year. Now, he looked like he'd been just  _stretched_  up. His body was pulled up until it was lean and lanky. Dean didn't doubt that Sam would fill out but Sam was never certain.  
  
Something that sounded like a bottle breaking sounded off in the distance. Dean turned instantly without even thinking. His eyes narrowed and he pulled Sam closer. They both held their breath and as the moments of silence ticked by it seemed that there was no immediate threat.  
  
"You hear that?" Sam spoke softly. John Winchester's number one rule was not to whisper. He said it was a more jarring sound than a quiet voice.  
  
"Yeah. It's probably a rat or something," Dean answered. "Rats and cockroaches, Sammy."  
  
Sam laughed behind his small hand. Dean had often told his little brother that only rats and cockroaches would be around at the end of the world.  
  
After the laughter subsided, both boys were quiet for a while. There was only a sliver of moon in the sky so the stars seemed extra bright. In Sam's duffle bag there was a battered old library book that Dean had given him.  _The Universe At a Glance._  
  
The fascination with stars and planets had started when Sam was about six years old. There were times when he would wake up from nightmares shaking, face wet with tears. He was inconsolable. At first, Dean Would have to just listen to Sam's nearly silent crying until the boy exhausted himself.  
  
One night though, in the middle of a summer, the temperature was in the high 90s. They had fallen asleep on top of their well-worn blankets, skin sticky with sweat. In the middle of the night when Sam's cries had woken Dean he'd asked Sammy to follow him.  
  
The had sneaked outside and clambered up onto the hood of the car, then the roof, and then Dean had boosted Sammy up onto the roof of the small building they'd taken shelter in.  
  
By the time they were sitting, cross-legged beside each other, Sam's cheeks were drying. Then they began to look at the stars.  
  
Dean couldn't remember most of the names of the constellations so had he made them up back when Sam was little. The sky that night was full of knights in full armour, old pick-up trucks, lobsters and starfish.  
  
That first night, Sam had said nothing as he listened to his brother but he had stopped shaking. And when they had finally slid back down the windshield to jump down onto the dusty ground, Sammy had padded back to his bed, curled up and slept peacefully.  
  
Over the years, they'd continued to sneak out and climb as high as they could on whatever they could find. All that had changed were their reasons for retreating to the stars.  
  
"Cassiopeia," Sam said.  
  
His too small voice broke through the haze of Dean's memories. "Yeah?"  
  
"Right there." Sam's thin finger pointed up to a cluster of stars off to the left.  
  
"I think I know that one," Dean muttered. But he didn't.  
  
"Dean?"  
  
"Mmhm?"  
  
"We gonna drive again tomorrow?"  
  
"Yeah. Dad was listenin' to a radio broadcast he found. He figured there's some people a few hundred miles from here."  
  
"Maybe there will be kids." Even though there was a slight question in Sam's voice, Dean said nothing; he just pulled Sam even closer and tousled his hair.  
  


  
  
  
The Winchester brothers worked hard. Their father had a mission: he wanted to kill all the creepers he could. Why? Because they took Mary from him.  
  
Many of their days were spent in the car. They were like the last hunters in a nomadic tribe.  
  
John would drive until he found a town that hadn't burned to the ground and that's where the work would begin.  
  
By the time he was fourteen years old, Dean knew how to decapitate infected people. A double barrel shotgun was nothing he couldn't handle. He'd been taught the basics of hand to hand marine combat by his father. He was a hunting machine.  
  
But whenever they stopped in a new town their first step was to find a safe place to hole up.  
  
Houses were too big. There were too many doors and windows to worry about and  _way_  too many rooms to clear.  
  
John didn't like tall buildings and anything above the third story John saw as a treacherous situation at best.  
  
They often ended up in beat-up, dirty motel rooms. They were arguably easier to both defend and escape from. The car was never more than a few short strides away.  
  
Sam and Dean's entire lives had begun to revolve around routine. Routine keep them alive. Well, routine and the fact that they were immune to the initial onslaught of the virus. The change to the virus being transmitted by bodily fluids was unprecedented. None of the men and women in white lab coats seemed to have an explanation for why the disease seemed to work in reverse.  
  
Soon after the virus mutated there had been no more television broadcasting.  
  
Everything had been silent for a while, then voices had begun to return to the radio.  
  
The crackling of the old transistor radio irritated Dean but he would never complain. The other lifers who were out there were held together by a fragile web of voices that were stretched too thinly over the airwaves. Sometimes, there were signs crafted for utility and definitely not decoration.  _Head 10 Miles North._   _Meet Here On All Full Moons._  and the occasional,  _It's all over. Give Up! Give In!_  or  _Die Creepers!!!_.  
  
Mostly, they got news from the radio.  
  
"Dean, fetch me a beer when you come over here. Someone should be on the air soon."  
  
Dean reached down from the rickety chair he was perched on and picked up one of the lukewarm bottles his Dad had deemed worthing of saving when Dean held it up to the light. The pale brown liquid was still mostly clear. His Dad always said that was a good sign.  
  
"Can I have one?"  
  
One of John's bushy, dark eyebrows lifted and he narrowed his gaze at his eldest. "You're only sixteen, Dean."  
  
"It's not like there are laws anymore, Dad." Dean rolled his eyes.  
  
"Dean." There was enough  _tone_  in John Winchester's voice to silence Dean.  
  
"Why do people drink beer?" Sammy piped up from the beat-up couch they'd dragged into the room. Sometimes, Sam was so quiet it was easy to forget he was there. Dean figured it was a strategy his kid brother used to eavesdrop.  
  
"Sam, don't you have something to read?" John asked as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.  
  
It wasn't hard to tell that John struggled with how to  _be_  around his youngest. Like oil and water, the two of them never seemed about to connect. Dean wasn't sure why Sam kept trying to talk to their father. Obviously, he had inherited their father's determination.  
  
"I'm just curious," Sam said.  
  
Smirking, Dean lowered his gaze so their father wouldn't see. It was Sam's newest  _go-to_  answer since on very trying afternoons when John had run out of patience for Sam's unending queries. He'd told his youngest that he was too curious for his own good.  
  
At first, Sam had been upset. Even when he didn't understand what their father meant, there was no mistaking their father's _tone_.  
  
As he often did, Dean took Sammy away that night and explained to him that being curious was great. Where would the world be, after all, if scientists had never been curious about things?  
  
As usual, Dean had made Sammy feel better.  
  
Fortunately for everyone, the small radio crackled to life. A familiar song began playing. " _We're here for a good time, not a long time. So have a good time; the sun can't shine every day."_  
  
Dean had no idea who the band was; he'd never heard the song before the lifers had begun to appear on the beat up old radio. Now that the words were stuck in Dean's mind, and they always made his blood run a little faster.  
  
There were other people out there. Dean could remember a time when it was common to see people. There were neighbours next to them at home. There were kids in their neighborhood. People dropped by and you bumped into them on the street if you were walking. Those days had long past though.  
  
But. Dean remembered it.  
  
The radio voices were different sometimes. Dean had no idea how it worked but he envisioned a fort or a huge institute that a handful of Lifers had fortified.  
  
A lot of the voices on the radio would offer to meet people but John Winchester wasn't interested in meeting anyone else. Dean was ambivalent. Little Sammy was always adamant that he wanted friends.  
  
He'd never had a friend besides his older brother. He'd seen people from afar; he'd even met a few adults but he'd certainly never had a buddy.  
  
"Okay," John said. "You boys listen up. Ya might learn somethin'."  
  
Dean rolled his eyes again out of his father's line of sight. But he wouldn't let the man drive him away from the radio. It was a voice other than his father's and that was something he didn't get to hear every day.  
  
After a long sigh, Dean wandered over to an old chair he'd found in another room. It smelled a little musty but it was clean enough. He stretched his back out, arms high above his head before sinking down into the chair.  
  
The static on the radio grew louder for a few moments and then went dead. It always made Dean wonder if the radio had broken, or the battery had just died again. Then there was a low, husky woman's voice.  
  
"Hi y'all. Pamala back here. Broadcasting on every half moon. Meeting up with folks on the full moon. Hope there are some ears out there listening to me or I'm basically just talking to myself..."  
  
Sam clumped across the room in sneakers he had yet to grow into. Wisely, in Dean's opinion, Sam by-passed the couch where his father sat and climbed up onto the arm of Dean's chair. Dean shoved his brother's sneaker off his jeans and brushed some dirt off. "Jesus, Sammy."  
  
"You boys be quiet," John muttered.  
  
Staying silent, Dean caught Sam in a headlock and dragged him off the chair until he slid down onto the floor.  
  
When Sam's floppy hair appeared once more above Dean's knees there was a grin on his face. Dean flipped his middle finger up and Sam's eyes widened in amused surprise.  
  
When John looked over at his sons Dean's hand dropped to his lap and Sam flipped around and sat down on the floor.  
  
Dean waited until their father's gaze was back on the radio before tousling Sam's hair.  
  
All Sam did was lean back against his brother's legs and get comfortable.  
  
The voice on the radio was still droning on so Dean tried to pay attention.  
  
Radio time was mandatory in the Winchester family. Ever since the Lifers had started broadcasting a few years back, John tried never to miss a session.  
  
Over the years, Dean had heard some crazy talk coming from the beat-up radio. Sometimes, people were gathering. Sometimes, music would play. Every now and again there were a few voices and they would argue back and forth about the science behind the shuffling dead.  
  
Most of the time Dean was able to tune out the radio. But he liked Pamela's voice. Dean  _was_  sixteen and it wasn't like there were people around he could actually  _date_. If he was into that sort of thing.  
  
There had been Alicia. She's been squatting in a Motel that the Winchesters had spent a night at. She was in her twenties and had made out with Dean behind the motel. He'd barely been able to stand afterwards.  
  
A young Lifer named Daniel had also caught Dean's eye. Daniel was travelling with two sisters and his father. The girls had flirted with Dean but it had been Daniel that seemed the most interesting to Dean. There was something dark about him.  
  
After an evening roasting hot dogs over a fire pit they'd been alone, for once. Daniel had taken Dean out to look at his car.  
  
The car was a 1970 GTO and Dean fell in love. Maybe it was the buzz of seeing such a cool car, maybe it was something else. But he and Daniel had ended up pressed against the cool metal of the car's hood. Their bodies rubbing together, their breath hot and fast against each other's skin.  
  
Afterwards, Dean had slunk back into the room he was sharing with his little brother. It was his secret and his body hummed with the energy of it until he finally fell asleep.  
  
But, sadly, they didn't run into people very often. Dean ended up sitting with his father and brother most evenings. Not nearly as interesting as some of his encounters.  
  
 _Pamela_. The faceless voice on the radio was talking about some areas that were getting over run by creepers. As far as Dean was concerned, the whole world was overrun with them.  
  
"Bingo," John said loudly.  
  
To hide the fact that he had jumped slightly, Dean shifted in the chair like he was trying to get comfortable.  
  
"What?" Dean asked.  
  
"This town. It's overrun...even though we didn't see that many. That's what my gut told me."  
  
"Oh, good," Dean muttered under his breath.  
  
"I knew it. Had a feelin'." John was always proud when his  _instincts_  were right.  
  
Most people spent time and energy avoiding creepers. Not John Winchester; he went looking for them.  
  
It seemed like the man was on a mission to wipe out every reanimated corpse he could find. And if that was an attempt to fill up the space left in their lives by Mary Winchester's death, well, it wasn't working.  
  
Something had died inside John Winchester the night he'd lost his wife. At sixteen, Dean wasn't really sure he knew what his father was dealing with but he could tell how broken the man was.  
  
Pamela was still talking about numbers of creepers. "The numbers are definitely growing in the midwest. Be careful out there, babes. Don't get bit."  
  
John shook his head and narrowed his gaze. "It's goin' up too fast."  
  
"What is?" Dean looked over at his father warily.  
  
"People must be gettin' careless. By now the numbers should have levelled out a bit."  
  
It all remained a bit of a mystery to Dean. But he could agree with the basic point his father was making. There shouldn't be anyone left who didn't understand the risks.  
  
For once, Sam stopped fidgeting. "Dad? Are there a lot of people like us left?"  
  
Dean steeled himself. He never knew what to expect when Sam tried to engage their father in conversation.  
  
John's gaze settled on his youngest for a few moments. "I don't think so, Sam. We don't run into very many people. I think … I think a lot of people stay in groups."  
  
"They try to make towns," Dean added.  
  
John nodded. There was a song playing on the radio again and Dean couldn't remember the name of the new song either.  
  
But Sam wasn't finished. "Why can't we go and live in a town for -"  
  
"They're not  _real_  towns, Sammy." Dean forgot how literally his brother took things sometimes.  
  
John didn't give Dean much of a chance to explain. "You boys know that we're better off alone. We got a job to do-"  
  
"I don't," Sam said quietly and Dean climbed out of the chair in readiness to intervene. "Sammy, get up off the floor; you and I have got some loot to sort through."  
  
Blinking, Sam climbed to his feet.  
  
"Night, Dad." Dean snagged the back of Sam's t-shirt and tugged him towards the door to the adjoining room. He didn't relax until the door closed behind him.  
  
Sam had grown quiet. That usually meant his overactive brain was working on something. It was, no doubt, something that would have pissed off their father.  
  
"Sam. You know he doesn't like us to talk about joinin' up with other people."  
  
"It doesn't make sense," Sam said softly. He sank down onto the end of one of the worn mattresses. When he looked up at Dean, sadness had settled onto his angular features.  
  
Even though Dean knew exactly what his little brother meant, he always asked. He never wanted Sam to believe that his thoughts and opinions didn't matter. There were times when Dean felt like that himself and he hated it. "What doesn't make sense, Sammy?"  
  
"Not wanting to go and be with other people." Sam had already spread his sleeping bag on the old mattress so he kicked off his sneakers and tucked his feet under his butt.  
  
Dean sank down onto the mattress beside his little brother and sighed. "You know what he's like. He thinks it's safer to just worry about ourselves."  
  
"But, what about learning stuff from other people? Wouldn't it make sense to, like, build a fence around a bunch of places? What if we could stay put somewhere? Have a house or something? Friends."  
  
There had been a point in Dean's life when he had really wanted a home. He had the vaguest of memories of the home they'd been a complete family in but they were fading.  
  
He could remember the way their mom's hair smelled and the golden color of it. There was a big tree in the front yard. Even before they'd left, Dean had learned how to climb part way up the huge trunk. But all those memories seemed so pointless. Nothing would  _ever_  be like that again.  
  
"Dean?"  
  
Blinking slowly, Dean looked over at his brother. "What?"  
  
"Don't  _you_  want friends?"  
  
This was the part of the conversation that Dean hated. He knew that the life that had been forced on Sam was almost cruel. He had the most minimal contact with anyone other than his father and brother. It was borderline abusive.  
  
After a while, Dean nodded. "Of course I do. Maybe things won't be like this forever. I mean, the world can't be packed full of zombies indefinitely. Fuckers will run out of things to eat."  
  
Sam's eyes brightened a little. Zombies was the magic word. Dean was the only one who called them that and it amused the hell out of his little brother.  
  
Sam held out his arms and moaned in a really horrible impersonation of a movie zombie. Dean had told him about them so many times he probably thought he could remember the movies.  
  
"Oh, shut your face," Dean muttered. But really, he liked it when Sam acted like a normal kid. Most of the time, he acted more like an exhausted thirty year-old than a twelve year-old kid.  
  
When Sam dropped his arms, he laughed and Dean was reminded of what a great sound it was. There really should be much more laughing in Sam's life. It didn't really matter how many times that Dean promised himself that though; he knew that wouldn't happen either.  
  
"You should get some sleep, Sammy."  
  
"Don't call me Sammy."  
  
Dean chuckled softly. He knew that Sam didn't really mind but the kid was rebellious for sure.  
  


  
  
  
It was a Monday when everything started to go wrong. At least, they'd said that it was a Monday on the radio at about 8:30 that night.  
  
They were in a very old, very run-down motel. John Winchester had said that it was too close to the city but they were almost out of gas and Sam didn't look well.  
  
For once, Dean had actually spoken up and asked if they could crash for a while.  
  
When John had finally relented, the shitty little motel had actually been a welcome sight.  
  
Sam had stumbled into the room that Dean had deemed  _theirs_  and barely managed to get his sleeping bag laid out before he'd curled up on it and fallen into a fitful sleep. The early evening dragged and Dean paced. He kept an eye on Sam while his father drank. Clearly, they had different strategies for passing the time.  
  
John was halfway through a bottle of whisky when there was a loud crash outside.  
  
In an instant, both father and son were on alert. Dean strode to the front window after flicking off the solar powered lantern on the wobbly coffee table.  
  
It was a few seconds before Dean's eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. Silence had fallen again outside and Dean peered through the small crack he'd left in the boarded up window.  
  
All Dean could hear was his own shallow breathing and a slight breeze rustling the leaves on a tree near the building.  
  
"Steady," John murmured.  
  
And then Dean heard the sound that he'd come to hate more than any other. At first, it was like a tree branch brushing against a fence, then it grew a little louder. It was the god-awful shuffling sound: a zombie. A creeper, as Sam and everyone else insisted on calling them.  
  
Dean focused on steadying his breathing. His right hand was clenched tightly around the barrel of his rifle his left around the handle of his knife. The metal had warmed up against his palm and Dean pulled it closer.  
  
There was a slight movement in the shadows and then the moonlight began to paint in details of the approaching creature.  
  
It was disgusting. Oh, Dean had seen a lot of the once-humans but some were worse than others.  
  
This creature looked as though it might have been a man once upon a time. The flesh that was left on its body was sagging. It was puffy and wet and as it shuffled closer Dean could see the moonlight reflected in the monster's watery eyes.  
  
It made Dean's skin crawl.  
  
He turned away momentarily to glance back at Sam. It was all bad timing. A sick little brother, a semi-sober senior Winchester and creepers.  
  
When Dean was once more facing down the barrel of his gun at the rotting creatures, calling them zombies didn't seem right. The name wasn't nearly poisonous enough to suit the slow moving, rotting monsters.  
  
"Dean." John's voice was quiet but the command was clear.  
  
Dean turned back to the space between the boards and squinted into the darkness. Another creeper appeared from behind the Impala and John swore softly.  
  
"Plan?" Dean was never sure whether they would be on the offense or the defense.  
  
"Fuck this," John muttered.  
  
Dean did a double take. His father's mouth was twisted into an angry grimace.  
  
"Dad?"  
  
"I'm goin' out there. I'm too tired for this shit tonight. There's only two of 'em." As he spoke, John shifted the bolt on his shotgun. After he'd leaned it against the window sill, he pulled out the machete that was strapped in a holster to his leg.  _No guns._  Whenever possible, that was the rule. Guns made noise, and noise brought more creepers.  
  
Dean had no idea what to say. Two creepers was nothing that his father hadn't handled before but usually they worked in pairs. And he'd had a few drinks already even though he still seemed pretty steady. "I should go with you, Dad."  
  
"No," John said abruptly. "Stay here and keep an eye on your brother. You understand?"  
  
Nodding mutely Dean tried to swallow. His throat was clenched tight with worry; but then, that happened to him a lot.  
  
"Cover me. Not unless I get in trouble, right?"  
  
Nodding, Dean smiled nervously at his father then turned back to the space between the boards. He didn't avert his gaze once; not even when he heard the small fridge pulled away from the door. He heard John open the door, step out and then he heard the door click shut. As soon as he could move Dean ran over to the door and pushed the small fridge back into place then turned the locks. He scrambled back to the window as quickly as he could.  
  
A few seconds passed before Dean saw the shadowy figure of his father move forward in a crouch until he was hidden behind the back end of the car.  
  
One creeper was standing on the other side of the car. It had, for the moment, given up its slow forward shuffle. Its head rolled on its shoulders as though it was only held on by a piece of string. Dean wasn't sure whether the thing was looking around or just ... doing whatever they did when they weren't tearing people apart limb from limb.  
  
He harbored a fair amount of honestly come by hatred for creepers.  
  
John made an adjustment to his grip on the knife and then slipped along the side of the car.  
  
Dean just watched. He wasn't sure what his father was doing. Then he saw that John had picked up a thick, short plank and had put his blade away.  
  
His father always said to kill things in the most quiet way possible and John was very efficient when it came to killing.  
  
As Dean watched, the creeper cocked its head sideways. Its hollow eye sockets, dark and weeping seemed to be focused on Dean. A cold shiver ran down Dean's body. The things had completely lifeless eyes. They never seemed to look like they'd been human at all. They looked more like everything that was good and clean about a human had been sucked out of them leaving nothing but a rotten husk.  
  
A string of saliva hung from the corner of the creeper's mouth and something that looked like it might have been a tooth fell from the thing's shredded lips.  
  
Unable to take the image any longer, Dean turned and looked at the shape of Sam under the sleeping bag. At least Sam was getting some rest. Sick or not, he always seemed to need more sleep than Dean.  
  
A very wet sounding moan came from outside the motel and Dean whipped his head back to the boarded up window.  
  
John was standing at the front of the car with the plank raised up over his head.  
  
But Dean's gaze was drawn to a movement behind his father. His eyes widened as the darkness began to take the shape of five more creepers.  
  
"Watch your six!" Dean called out as he lowered his sights.  
  
The thing about some situations is that you can see the outcome before everything even begins.  
  
Even as John Winchester was spinning to defend himself, Dean's stomach felt like it had twisted into a tight knot.  
  
There were too many creepers. John was good. Hell, he was better at fighting than he was at anything else but he'd been driving all day. He'd been drinking. And there were more creepers emerging from the shadows than Dean had thought.  
  
Dean aimed at one creeper but realized quickly there was too much movement. He couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't hit his father and if he couldn't take one down, he'd just attract more of them. Dean couldn't leave Sam now, not now that there were so many of the creepers outside.  
  
The plank swung again and knocked one of the creeper's skulls sideways. The neck crunched and fell sideways at an unnatural angle and the creature crumpled. But it was only one.  
  
John spun around in time to clobber another creeper that was almost on top of him.  
  
"Jesus Christ, Dad!" Dean cocked his gun and aimed.  
  
"No, Dean!" John hissed. "I can hear more of them."  
  
The plank slammed wetly into the face of a third creeper. What passed for a bone structure in the thing's face crumpled inward and it let out a mucousy wail.  
  
Dean yelled in frustration and pulled his gun back through the boards. He  _had_  to go out there and help his dad. His fingers scratched at the dirty floor until they curled around his knife.  
  
More grotesque faces appeared from the shadows and Dean pressed both hands to the boards. "Dad, I'm comin' out!"  
  
"No!" John yelled.  
  
A rattling cry rose up from the creepers that were shuffling closer and closer to John.  
  
Walking backwards, wielding the plank in front of him like a sword, John let out an angry growl.  
  
"Dad." Dean knew his Dad was right. There was no way, even together, that they would be able to get rid of so many creepers. And... Sammy.  
  
"You take care of your brother, Dean," John ordered. For a split second his eyes focused on Dean's and his mouth curled into a crooked smile. Then he was in motion again. He took another step back as the plank connected once more with one of the creepers’ neck and it snapped sickly just before the creature folded in on itself.  
  
There were so many; more than Dean had seen together in a very long time. He banged his tightly clenched fist against his thigh. "Just get back to the door, Dad."  
  
In between swings, John's gaze found his son's once more through the narrow space between the boards. The expression on John's face said so many things. There were too many creepers between John and the door. If Dean opened the door to get his father back inside, they'd be overrun before they could even  _begin_  to fight. And, there was Sammy.  
  
 _Sammy._  "Fuck," Dean said softly.  
  
Dean rested his forehead against the boards and stared at his father.  
  
"Lock it up; lights out," John said gruffly. He kicked out the knee of the closest creeper and it fell backwards taking two more down. "Keep Sammy safe, you hear me?"  
  
The plank swung and missed then swung and connected with another rotting face. Pus and green lumps of flesh splattered all over John's face and shirt.  
  
For the briefest instant, John's gaze flicked towards Dean's again. His expression softened and he nodded.  
  
Two more creepers reached for John and he only managed to hit one of them with the plank. He was yanked around by skinny, clawing fingers and Dean had to look away as his father fell to his knees.  
  
"Dean?"  
  
The weak voice behind Dean sent pain ripping through his chest. He opened his mouth to answer and could only choke on all the emotion that was welling up in his chest.  
  
"Where's Dad?" Sam asked from the bed. The kid's hair was flat on one side and standing straight up on the other.  
  
Dean launched off the floor, stumbled and fell on his knee so hard that he had to slap his hand over his mouth to keep from crying out. He got up as quickly as he could and limped to the table beside Sam and turned off the second lamp.  
  
As Sam sat bewildered on the bed, Dean slipped some extra boards back into the braces they had fashioned on either side of the windows.  
  
"Dean?"  
  
"Hush, Sammy!" Dean hissed over his shoulder. He froze so he could listen.  
  
For a few seconds, the gutteral moans from outside seemed to grow louder and Dean closed his eyes.  
  
"Dean." Sam's voice was an almost whisper and it trembled. It was all fear.  
  
"Just ... just stay there, Sammy. Do  _not_  move," Dean whispered. He held up his hand and gave his little brother a stern look.  
  
With his heart pounding in his ears, Dean turned back to the boarded up window. The shuffling sounds had died down but he could hear the sounds of chewing. There were lips smacking and the gurgling sound of creepers swallowing and growling.  
  
Dean had to force his eyes open. As soon as he focussed on the dogpile of writhing, rotting bodies he regretted it.  
  
John was on the bottom of the heaving mound of disgusting flesh. His arm flopped out of the tangle of limbs; his fingers clawed at the dirt once, twice and then the tension in his hand was gone. His hand went still.  
  
Dean couldn't swallow. Grief tightened in a heavy band across his chest. A fog descended upon him and all of his thoughts slowed to a crawl.  
  
John Winchester always survived everything. He was stubborn. There had been close scrapes in the past but -  
  
"Dean? Where's Dad?"  
  
"Sam. Quiet," Dean murmured. He crouched down and fell forward onto his knees before leaning down to pick up the shotgun. The weight of it was reassuring and Dean clutched it against his chest as his eyes became accustomed to the dark.  
  
"Dean..." Sam's plaintive murmur cut straight across Dean's heart.  
  
He cast his gaze around the room and managed to pick out the shape of his brother on the old mattress. "Two minutes, Sammy. Then 'll be right there."  
  
Sam stayed silent and Dean could see that his brother was still on the bed.  
  
Twelve years old and Sam was sitting there waiting for Dean to explain.. what the fuck was Dean going to say?  
  
After a last look out the window, Dean rubbed his eyes. The image of his father's body would  _never_  leave his mind. There were still creepers piled on John's body. A couple of them looked as though they were dead and just lying there across John.  
  
The hand... his father's hand remained still. The gold of John's wedding ring glinted in the moonlight.  
  
Their father was dead. The weight of the realization slammed into Dean's chest and he lost all the breath from his lungs. He was drowning in the fear, guilt and nausea that was filling him up.  
  
What the  _fuck_  was he going to say to Sam?  
  
 _Geez. I'm sorry, Sam. I let Dad go outside alone and he got swamped by creepers. He's dead and half eaten-_.  
  
"Fuck," Dean whispered. Their father really was dead. Everything was up to Dean.  
  
Even though Sam was silent Dean could feel the fear radiating off his brother's slight body. Sam had good instincts; he would sense how his brother was feeling.  
  
For a moment, grief was so thick and full in Dean's chest that he was certain it would claw its way up his throat and strangle him. It took all of his strength to choke it down.  _He_  was the one who needed to take care of Sammy. Alone.  
  
Dean made a final swing around the perimeter of the small room. He'd memorized the layout earlier like John had taught him. Moving around in the dark wasn't a challenge.  
  
The room was locked up tight. Nothing was getting in and there were enough supplies in the room that Sam and Dean could wait out the creepers. As soon as the coast was clear, they would get as far away as possible from the motel.  
  
They would just start driving like they'd always done.  
  
Dean moved over to the nightstand and let his fingers trail over the car keys that John had tossed there so carelessly earlier. _God_. It was next to impossible to believe that they'd arrived only a few hours earlier.  
  
Snatching the keys up, Dean sighed then slipped them into the front pocket of his jeans. It felt important to keep them close.  
  
Dean sat down on the edge of the mattress. He felt Sam shift closer and then a small hand curled over Dean's forearm.  
  
Sam's palm was hot and Dean reached up to press the back of his hand to his brother's forehead. The skin was hot and damp. "Jesus, Sammy. You're burning up."  
  
Sam nodded weakly; his eyes were bright in the dim light but his eyelids heavy. Dean was no expert but even by the faint moonlight he could see the Sam looked ill. They might have to stay in the room longer than Dean wanted to.  
  
"Dean? What happened?" Sam kept his voice low and quiet just like he'd been taught.  
  
"You're sick, Sammy. You fell asleep when we got here. It's okay, you'll be -"  
  
"- No, Dean. What happened to Dad?"  
  
Dean closed his eyes when he felt the burning itch of tears. "Dad-"  
  
The muscles in Dean's chest tightened painfully and his heart seemed to be pounding hard enough to blow apart. He slid his arms around his brother's shoulders and pulled him close. The soft wisps of Sam's hair tickled Dean's cheek and he buried his face in them.  
  
No matter how long they were on the road Sam always smelled good. Kid smell, outdoors, soap, and sometimes he was sweet like candy. Dean didn't want that to change.  
  
He remembered the night his father had told him that his mother was dead. "Be strong, Dean. Don't you cry, son. Don't give them that." Empty orders.  
  
Dean sighed and threw his arm around his little brother's shoulders. When he leaned back against the headboard it made a creaking sound.  
  
[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/twoboys2love/66949000/7042/7042_original.jpg)

Heat was radiating off Sam's body and Dean was more than a little worried. Antibiotics were rare and they hadn't run across any stocked pharmacies for a  _long_  time.  
  
"I can hear them outside, Dean." Sam's voice sounded rough and overused.  
  
It was  _so_  much easier to tune them out. But once Sam mentioned  _them_  Dean had no choice but to hear the shuffling, the groans, and all the sounds that betrayed the presence of the creepers.  
  
The images of their father's bloody fingers flickered through Dean's mind and re-ignited the pain in his chest. "Sammy, I need to tell you something."  
  
Struggling to sit up a little more, Sam blinked as he stared up at Dean. Before Dean could say a word, Sam's eyes became a little glassy and he began to chew on his bottom lip. He did that when he was nervous; sometimes, he chewed on it until the skin was red and raw.  
  
All Dean could do was nod. There had never been any point in lying to Sam. He could read Dean like an open book.  
  
"D-did Dad go out there?"  
  
Dean nodded again. "He, uh, he was tryin' to stop them before the noise ... before. He was...'  
  
One of Sam's small hands patted Dean's chest and he closed his eyes slowly. "If one of them knows that we're here they get too noisy. Then more of them would come."  
  
Twelve years old and Sammy could recite what John Winchester had taught them.  
  
"Right, Sammy." Dean took a deep breath but the air felt stained by the night's events. "He was tryin' to make sure we were safe."  
  
There was a burst of noise outside and the cries of the creepers escalated to a frightening cacophony for a few minutes. Dean tightened his arm around Sam and pulled him close to his chest.  
  
After a while the moans and grunts began to fade away until they became difficult to make out. The creepers wouldn't move on until they found something new to obsess over.  
  
Sam's arms had wound around Dean's waist and he was holding on like his life depended on it. Maybe it did.  
  
Sam's hair was silky under Dean's palm. "Dad's not coming back, Sammy. He fought really hard but there were just too many of them."  
  
Sam lifted his head slowly and looked up at Dean's face. Small furrows appeared in his forehead and his chin quivered slightly.  
  
That was the thing about Sam, he might be young but he had so much compassion in his small frame.  
  
"We'll be okay, Sammy. We'll wait it out until they move on. Dad would want us to keep goin', right?" The burn of unshed tears in Dean's eyes stung even more when Sam nestled closer.  
  
The slight shake of Sam's slender shoulders was all that gave away that he was crying. Sam had learned very young to grieve quietly. For some reason, that suddenly made Dean angry. So much of Sam's young life had been stolen away from him one rule at a time.  
  
"I know, Sammy," Dean murmured into his brother's hair. "I promise I'll take care of you. You remember what I did when you were just a baby, right?"  
  
Sam nodded but stayed silent save for a quiet snort.  
  
"I took you out of our house when the creepers got in. Just like Dad said. I looked after you then and I'm not gonna stop now." There was no way that Dean would let  _anything_  happen to his little brother. They were all the family they had in the world.  
  
It was more than enough for Dean. He just needed to make sure it was enough for Sam.  
  


_ _


	2. Chapter 2

For Sam's nineteenth birthday, Dean decided to try something different.  
  
Different in that he figured, for once, they should actually celebrate. Because Sam had been raised without other people around, the idea of birthdays was lost on him. He didn't get the point of celebrating being older. Dean was going to change that, he'd decided.  
  
One of the things that their father had done was avoid holidays altogether. For years there had been no Thanksgiving, no Christmas and most of Dean's birthdays had passed without him even noticing.  
  
Dean could still remember a cake from when he was little. It had been in the shape of a fire truck. The tires were made from rolled up licorice and the exhaust from the truck was a little bit of cotton candy.  
  
Sammy would have to make do with a can of spotted dick that Dean had found in a weird import store. There was a  _slight_ possibility that Dean had chosen the desert because of its moniker and the potential for embarrassing Sam. But, it was also in a can and cans were a gamble that generally paid off.  
  
It was sweet and Sammy loved sweet. Now that the brothers were on their own, their trips for supplies were  _very_  different than they had been in the past.  
  
Dean had spent  _way_  too many hours in grocery stores waiting for Sam to choose some kind of candy from broken down bulk bins.  
  
At least they had a home to keep candy in now. When John had died it had fallen to Dean to go through their father's belongings.  _Don't keep anything that doesn't serve a purpose, Son._  
  
John had one friend that Dean knew in person. That friend, Rufus, had left John a cabin. Judging by the note that Dean had found in the back of the journal, Rufus had left John the cabin because it would be a safe place for Sam and Dean to grow up. Presumably, John hadn't felt that way because he'd never mentioned the cabin.  
  
Dean had discovered the note from Rufus, several keys and a map. The cabin was on a flat plain of land about a quarter of the way up a small foothill.  _High ground._  
  
What the boys had found when they finally made it to the cabin was a stronghold behind a gate they had a key for. There was a basement full of canned food, medical supplies, weapons and other things they couldn't even identify. Outside they found a huge underground tank full of gasoline. There was a bullet press, an assortment of weapons including cross bows and all the supplies needed to make arrows.  
  
The cabin had been fortified, maybe by Rufus - they couldn't tell because they really didn't know much about the cabin's history.  
  
The cabin was centered on a fenced-off area that was crossed by a mountain stream. The fence was perfectly constructed for the battle the world was fighting. The lower part of it was a thick sheet of metal with viewing slits every few feet. The top part of the fence was barbed wire - not that it would be at all possible for a creeper to climb up that high.  
  
There was a gate wide enough for the car and strong enough when locked to keep out anything - human or otherwise.  
  
It was a perfect home base. The decision to make the cabin their permanent home was the only easy decision Dean had ever made.  
  
It might be the  _only_  easy decision he would ever make.  
  
So. They had driven until they reached the cabin and they found a home... and then they stopped driving.  
  
The cabin was the first home that Sam had ever known. That made Dean happy and sad at the same time. It was a strange mixture of emotions, wanting something for his brother that Sam didn't even have enough knowledge of to miss.  
  
Slowly, they had fallen into a strange routine. They would spend weekends at the the cabin and drive out to find supplies and shoot whatever creepers they ran into during the week. It was a life and it felt to Dean as though they should celebrate. They were alive, they were together and they had a safe place to live.  
  
The corner of Dean's mouth curled into a slight smile. It wasn't often that he got the opportunity to torment his little brother.  
  
The car door creaked when Dean opened it and he made a mental note to oil the hinges. A small cloud of dust puffed up when his boots hit the road and Dean stretched his arms up. He'd been driving too damned long.  
  
After shaking off the stiffness in his shoulders, Dean walked over to the heavy duty metal gate that kept the cabin safe. The wheels screeched as the gate rolled open; Dean pushed until it was wide enough for the car.  
  
As soon as his ass hit the front seat again, Dean honked the horn a couple of times. Sam's birthday wouldn't be all that great if he shot Dean because he thought he was a creeper.  
  
The cabin was the one place left in the world where Dean could actually sleep. Compared to the motel rooms and other places they crashed from time to time, the cabin felt like Fort Knox.  
  
At least, it felt like Fort Knox to Dean. Sam hadn't truly relaxed since ... well, since the night they'd lost John.  
  
Feeling more than a little weary, Dean closed the gate then parked the car.  
  
His duffel bag was heavy with supplies he'd nabbed from the big box store that was a couple hundred miles away. Needless to say, it had been a very long day.  
  
Dean yanked the cabin door open. "Do you  _ever_  remember to lock the damn door, Sammy?"  
  
"Don't call me Sammy," was the muffled response from down the hallway.  
  
Dean smirked. He set his duffel bag down by the small wooden table that was cluttered with dirty dishes. " _Still_  your turn to do dishes, Sam!"  
  
"Nope. Yours," was the faint reply. There was a thump down the hall and the sound of something being dragged across the wooden floor.  
  
Every time Dean left the cabin Sam continued his ongoing endeavour to make the cabin  _more_  like a home. It wasn't what Dean considered a good use of their time but it seemed to amuse Sam.  
  
"What the  _hell_  are ya movin' now?" Dean muttered.  
  
He shoved some of the dishes aside so that he could unload his duffel bag.  
  
There was still some good stuff at the cavernous box stores. After the initial chaos when people had begun to die, people had disappeared into their homes and hunkered down.  
  
Dead people weren't all that good at looting.  
  
This trip had yielded powdered milk, Captain Crunch and sugar, among other things. There were about thirty cans of food. Everything from chicken noodle soup to baked beans It was a bit of a crap shoot. Some of the cans lasted forever, others offered up foul smelling unidentifiable goop once opened.  
  
There had been some shirts that would fit Sam, and even a pair of boots that might work. That should please Sam.  
  
Dean felt a little like Santa Claus. As he unloaded more  _loot_  he heard Sam walking down the hall.  
  
"What'd ya get me?" There was the distinct sound of a smile in Sam's voice. Before Dean could answer, his brother was pulling things out and settling them on the table.  
  
"Sweet!" Sam had found the box set of books that Dean had snagged for his little brother.  
  
But Sam was suddenly quiet. When Dean looked up Sam's eyes were locked on the books.  
  
"Did I get it wrong?" Brow furrowed, Dean scratched his fingers through his hair. He'd been so certain Sam had said that he wanted to read all of Dickens' work.  
  
"No," Sam said softly. "Kinda surprised is all."  
  
"I  _can_  remember things, Sammy." Dean was probably paying far more attention than Sam realized. There wasn't much that he didn't know about his kid brother. After all, it was Dean's job; had been for a very long time.  
  
Sam's lips curled into a warm smile and he reached over to squeeze Dean's shoulder. "Thanks, Bro."  
  
Sam leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Dean's cheek.  
  
Dean frowned and flinched back as though he'd been punched but Sam was already heading down the hallway, books tucked under his arm.  
  
"What the  _fuck?_ ," Dean whispered.  
  
He had no frame of reference to process a kiss from his brother; it wasn't as though Sam had never kissed him before but it hadn't happened in years.  
  
When they'd first lost John, Sam had asked his big brother for a kiss goodnight. It was Dean's fault. Before he'd realized quite how clever Sam was Dean had told the kid about the way Mary had kissed him on the forehead every night. She'd always told Dean that angels were watching over him.  
  
Immediately after Dean had finished his story Sam had demanded that Dean kiss him goodnight and tell him about angels.  
  
Dean flat out refused to say that angels were watching over them. He knew that wasn't possible.  _No angels_ , he'd told Sam. Because no  _God_  would have let their father die the way he had.  
  
But Sam had persisted. So Dean had kissed his brother on the forehead every night and said, "I'm watching over you, Sammy. You're safe."  
  
As they'd grown up Sam had no longer needed to be tucked in. Sometimes, he stayed awake for hours after Dean.  
  
There were no more kisses on the forehead and no more assurances that Dean would watch over his little brother.  
  
Dean knew that Sam had reached the point in his life when he knew that no one could protect them. Sam had seen too much death in his life to believe that it didn't come for everyone sooner or later.  
  
But this. Now. Sam was nineteen and hadn't kissed Dean in years.  
  
Dean rubbed at his cheek because it felt as though Sam's lips had left some kind of trace that was still worrying at his skin.  
  
When he realized he was still holding two cans of soup, Dean set them down on the table so hard they send a cracking sound echoing through the cabin.  
  
"You good?" came Sam's query from down the hallway.  
  
Dean wetted his lips. "Yup. Dropped somethin'."  
  
A kiss, Dean told himself, was just a kiss. They were brothers. Hell, Dean had raised Sam for half his life. Sam hadn't socialized with other people his own age and he'd certainly had a bizarre life. He was learning to have different boundaries than other people would. It didn't mean anything.  
  
"Stupid," Dean muttered as he began to move again. He flung the cupboards open and started stacking the cans on the shelf.  
  
There was another thump from down the hallway and Dean wondered if Sam was  _creating_  or  _destroying_.  
  
"Hey! Sammy!" Dean put the last of the cans away in a bottom cupboard then tossed his duffel bag onto the floor by the front door.  
  
For some reason, when Dean heard his brother's footfalls he felt a little nervous and busied himself with the dishes.  
  
"Yeah?" Sam walked over to where Dean was standing and leaned against the counter.  
  
"What?" Dean glanced over at his brother. His hair was too long and nearly covered his eyes when he looked down.  
  
Laughing, Sam kicked his brother's boot. "You called me here, idiot."  
  
 _Oh yeah._  Dean  _had_  called Sam. He just couldn't remember what he'd wanted.  
  
"Dinner," Dean exclaimed when he remembered what he was going to ask. "What you want?"  
  
Sam's lips pressed together and then he tucked his hair back behind his ear so he could see Dean. "There's still some of that deer, right?"  
  
While nodding Dean turned the water on and filled up the kettle. No hot water. Dean would always miss hot water just appearing out of the tap like magic.  
  
"I got some potatoes from the garden," Sam said. "We could bake them."  
  
Dean nodded. "Sure. I'll get goin' on these ASAP."  
  
Turning his attention back to the sink, Dean glanced up quickly and smiled.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Sure. Of course," Dean said  _far_  too quickly.  
  
After a brief frown flitted across Sam's face, he shrugged a shoulder and headed over to the table.  
  
He would set places for two. It was another strange thing that Sam did. He insisted on setting the table. There were placemats that he had found on one of his scavenger trips, knives and forks and coasters.  
  
Every so often, Dean got kind of annoyed by Sam's quirks. But, it never lasted very long. Dean loved his brother; nothing felt quite right unless they were together.  
  
Dean pulled the plate of meat out of the old icebox. "I'm gonna - you know. Barbecue."  
  
Sam laughed softly. "Okay, Dean."  
  
Yeah. Dean could rip zombies apart - but he could be defeated by a well-meaning kiss on the cheek. It just came too close to doors he had long since closed.  
  


  
  


  
  
"Sam! Get your ass out here!" Dean was frustrated. He let his head fall back and let out a growl. They were heading out on a supply run, they had hours of driving ahead of them and Sam was dragging his ass.  
  
"Sam. I swear. I'm giving you five more minutes and them I'm leavin' with-"  
  
"I'm ready." Sam was so close to Dean that the sound of his voice was startling.  
  
"Jesus, Sam. Warn a guy."  
  
Grinning, Sam swung his backpack over his shoulder and darted around the car to yank the passenger door open. He folded himself into the front seat and was almost finished fidgeting by the time Dean slid behind the wheel.  
  
"Freak," Dean murmured.  
  
Sam just smiled from beneath shaggy bangs and tossed his backpack into the back seat.  
  
The engine rumbled when Dean started it and settled quickly into an even purr. The smile on Dean's face was full of pride.  
  
Sam's eyeroll was hard to miss.  
  
"Sam. D'you know how important this car is? We would have a hell of a hike ahead of us if there was no one to take care of her."  
  
"It's a lovely car," Sam said dutifully. "And you do a fantastic job of keeping her running."  
  
"Sam."  
  
"What? That's what you want to hear, right?" There was a bemused expression on Sam's face that Dean just wanted to wipe off.  
  
"Okay, dick. I want you to  _mean_  it." Dean put the car into park and Sam hopped out to unlock the gate and slide it open.  
  
Dean drove forward enough to clear the gate and watched in the rearview mirror as Sam slid it closed.  
  
Sam clambered back into the car and slammed his door.  
  
"Don't  _slam_  the door."  
  
"Yes, Dean."  
  
"Did you lock the gate?"  
  
"Yes, Dean."  
  
"Fuck off, Sammy."  
  
"Don't call me Sammy." Sam thumped his knuckles against his brother's shoulder as they began to drive down the hill. "Where we headed, Dean?"  
  
Sam was stretching his legs out as he tried to get comfortable.  
  
"Told you. Remember that big wholesale place we saw? There were still a lot of unopened boxes in the back of the warehouse." Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Same as usual, the further they got from the cabin, the more tense Dean became.  
  
"Right," Sam said. "Wonder if there will be any books left." Chewing on his bottom lip, Sam stared out the passenger window.  
  
"You and your books."  
  
"Hey," Sam protested. "If it weren't for my  _books_  we wouldn't known which mushrooms or berries to eat."  
  
Dean didn't say anything but he raised an eyebrow. Sam was right but Dean wasn't going to give his brother much ground.  
  
"What about when you were sick and I-"  
  
"-and you made me that  _disgusting_  tea that nearly made me puke."  
  
Sam turned in the seat and pulled one long leg up. "You felt  _better_  after I made you drink that."  
  
"Okay, okay," Dean said. "Want me to call you Doctor Sammy?"  
  
Sam sighed and shook his head but there was a slight smile on his face.  
  
Marking that one in the win column Dean grinned as he reached over to turn the stereo on.  
  
Led Zeppelin blared out of the speakers and Dean was pretty sure he heard Sam sighing again. But he couldn't listen to music for long and only in certain areas.  _Quiet_  - that was still the key to their survival. John had definitely been right about that.  
  
Recently, Dean had begun to notice that Sam did nearly everything quietly. Because he'd known no other life Sam had grown up making as little sound as possible. He worked quietly. He slept without moving, and he never hummed or muttered or any of the things that other people might do.  
  
Sam hadn't been around many people besides his family. He and Dean had run into a few other survivors over their years together. But Dean's Rules were simple: don't trust anyone. That was it.  
  
He might protest from time to time but Sam followed the rules. They'd had a couple of run-ins with assholes and that had perfectly illustrated why trusting others wasn't a good idea.  
  
Dean shifted around a little and got more comfortable. After a few seconds he leaned down to crack his window open. "Stuffy in here."  
  
He glanced over at Sam and discovered that his brother was sleeping.  
  
"Already?" But Dean kept his voice low. He was alert enough to know that his little brother had been having some trouble sleeping and was often awake and wandering in the middle of the night. Dean wasn't sure what Sam did when he wandered. After all, there was no rule that Sam had to stay in his room all night.  
  
It was possible that Sam just felt better in the living room. Dean wasn't going to bring it up. Sam already thought that Dean was over-protective. There had even been a mention once or twice about Sam not having any privacy.  
  
The track down from the cabin met up with an old trunk road and Dean eased the car onto the gravel then sped up steadily. There wouldn't be much of anything to see until they hit the city limits.  
  
A hissing sound made Dean look over at his brother. Sam was slowly sliding down the seat towards Dean.  
  
"God," Dean whispered. he lifted his arm and when Sam's head finally hit his brother's chest, Dean settled his arm on Sam's waist.  
  
Sam sighed and shifted until his head was on Dean's thigh.  
  
It hadn't changed since they'd driven away from the crappy motel for the first time without their father. That very first night, Sam had fallen asleep on his brother. He'd been hot, still feverish, and as Dean had driven through the night he had stroked Sam's hair back off his forehead.  
  
Hours they had driven that way. And it still happened. It didn't  _bother_  Dean. Why worry? There was no one around to notice that they were unusually close for brothers.  
  
It just didn't matter. Sam hadn't grown up with normal societal conventions and norms. Dean was really all Sam knew. When he wanted comfort it had always been Dean that had provided it. There was an innocence about Sam that was remarkable especially in such a fucked up world.  
  
Dean slid his hand over Sam's shoulder and squeezed gently as he settled in for the drive.  
  


  
  


  
  
"Wake up, Princess." Dean tousled Sam's hair and laughed when Sam swatted at his hand. "Get up."  
  
Groaning, Sam struggled to sit up then peered around bleary-eyed. "Where are we?"  
  
"Down on the freeway," Dean answered. "You slept all the way down."  
  
Sam tried to stretch but it didn't look very satisfying because he was too tall to even straighten his arms. "Sorry. I must have been tired."  
  
It seemed like a strange thing to apologize for but Dean just smiled. He wasn't surprised Sam was tired. His kid brother had been up in the middle of the night doing the wandering thing. Dean had heard it so many times that he didn't think to get up and check on Sam any more. It was odd, but most things about Sam were odd, if not completely unusual.  
  
"I figure we can pull the car right up to the loading dock at the back. You think we can open the door quietly?"  
  
Sam shrugged and reached down to tied up his boot. "Depends on what kind of door it is. If it's electric could be impossible."  
  
"Last time we were there I checked one of them. It had a long chain on either side. Looked like a regular pulley system."  
  
After the first outbreak, some people had been proactive. All the doomsdayers had predicted that the power stations would fail. A few of them had tried to modify their businesses to work without electricity. Those were always the best places to find.  
  
"Sounds promising," Sam said. "You said I could have a look for some books, right?"  
  
"Yeah, Sammy. Gotta keep you busy." Dean grinned. He was secretly proud of Sam's voracious appetite for books. A lot of that knowledge that Sam crammed into his head had come in handy over the years.  
  
"I'm still trying to find one of those books that is about surviving in the wilderness."  
  
"Wilderness?"  
  
"Well, more about which plants have medicinal qualities... what kind of bark we can eat. And something, like dandelion wines."  
  
"Wine! I'd prefer you learned how to brew beer but I'll settle for wine." Dean might finally have a reason to enjoy Sam's obsessions.  
  
"Wine - red wine is good for you in small quantities," Sam said.  
  
"See? I knew I was on to something. And you bitch about me drinking."  
  
"I don't bitch," Sam answered. "It just doesn't seem really important."  
  
"It's not important, Sam; it's relaxing and awesome." Dean smiled and leaned down to pick up a water bottle. He knew why Sam didn't like him drinking. It was left over from their days with John. The man's mood had altered significantly every time he'd had a few drinks.  
  
But Dean knew that he wasn't like that. In fact, he usually did everything in his power to be the opposite of his father. He didn't blame Sam though. After all, there was just the two of them. Everything they did affected both of them.  
  
"Gonna need to make a few more arrows soon." Sam turned sideways on the seat and stared down over the gear that was in the back seat.  
  
"Yeah. We lost a couple last time," Dean answered. Most of the time they were able to retrieve their arrows but sometimes it just wasn't worth the risk.  
  
It looking windy outside and Dean let his gaze move along the horizon. Gray clouds were rolling in and the wind was so strong that some of the smaller trees were already bending towards the earth.  
  
"Hey, Dean."  
  
Dean looked over at his brother and noticed a hesitant look on his brother's face. "Yeah?"  
  
"Is this the big box store that had the meeting notice by the front door?" Sam was picking at a thread on the knee of his new jeans.  
  
"Hell, I don't know. I just remember the smell of those creepers out front."  
  
Looking a little disappointed Sam nodded then turned to look out the window again.  
  
The disappointment on Sam's face made Dean feel a little guilty. He did remember the meeting notice. Hell, he remembered the exact wording on the damn poster.  
  
 _We are a collective. If you're tired of being alone then just wait here for us. We will be here at this spot on the full moon of every month at noon. - Jo._  It was the kind of thing Dean loathed because it felt so false. But Sam always brightened when he saw the notices. The idea that there were other people out there seemed to make Sam feel better.  
  
"You could always look for it again, Sam." Reluctant as he was to meet up with other people, Dean always had trouble not giving Sam what he wanted.  
  
"Yeah," Sam said to the window.  
  
They made the rest of the trip in silence. It wasn't all that far and before long they were pulling up in front of the warehouse store.  
  
It was a routine day for the brothers. They parked close to the warehouse door and ensured that the area was clear. They found only one creeper and it was already trapped under a huge garbage bin. While it was still pinned down Dean drove a wooden stake through its forehead.  
  
The warehouse had been looted more than a few times but the Winchesters were right. For some reason there was a big warehouse space towards the back of the building that hadn't been cleaned out.  
  
They worked well together. Sam climbed up to toss boxes down to his older brother. Dean would slice the top box flap open and check the contents. If the contents were worth keeping it went next to the back door. If it wasn't of any use Dean stacked it against the opposite wall.  
  
It was hard work, but nothing Sam and Dean weren't used to. By the time they were finished sorting half of the boxes they had more than enough to fill up the car.  
  
Dean declared it a successful trip. They'd found huge bags of rice, powdered milk, a variety of dried beans and a lot of cans they could sort through later.  
  
As much as Dean would give for a barbecued steak, a burger or a few strips of bacon - he had to admit that he was getting used to Sam's cooking. They ate a lot of rice but Sam managed to make it pretty tasty with the vegetables he grew.  
  
Dean had taken to calling Sam  _Farmer Sammy_  because of the time he spent in the small garden.  
  
Actually, it wasn't all that small. Sam had turned the entire back section of their land into a garden. He had started off small with carrots, peas and watermelon but he'd moved on quickly.  
  
The last time Dean had checked Sam was even experimenting with wheat in the hopes that he might be able to make some bread. Dean wasn't sure of the logistics but he was in favour of anything that might result in him getting a sandwich.  
  
Yeah, so Dean could deal with rice the way Sam prepared it.  
  
Loading up the car was uneventful. In fact, they didn't see a single creeper which was pretty unusual. Once they were settled inside and on their way back home Dean finally allowed himself a little time to relax.  
  
His world - the inside of that old beauty of a car - was a pretty good place. The music was awesome, Sam was smiling with his nose buried in one of the books he had found, the windows were down and it was sunny and warm. Things didn't get much better than that.  
  
"Damn good day, Sammy."  
  
Sam said nothing but he looked up and flashed a lopsided grin at Dean.  
  
"What book did you find this time?" Dean probably wouldn't know what Sam was up to but he always liked to ask.  
  
"It's a compendium of herbs and minerals. It's got a great section on each entry about medicinal values." Sam's gaze returned to the book quickly.  
  
"Pretty soon I'll have to call ya Professor Sammy." Dean smirked and sped up a little. He never felt completely safe until they were back at the cabin.  
  
"Don't drive so fast," Sam muttered before turning another page.  
  
All Dean did was chuckle quietly. It wasn't like they were going to run into anyone. But it was a standard part of every drive.  
  
When they were finally back at the cabin, Sam had flipped through most of his new book. He only put the book down when it was time to hop out of the car and yank the gate open.  
  
Dean was so happy to be home that he didn't even give Sam shit for opening the gate without checking behind the car and in both ditches for creepers.  
  
Dean drove forward and watched in his mirror as Sam closed and locked the gate. Sam's biceps bulged under his thin t-shirt as he yanked the heavy gate closed. He'd certainly grown into that freakishly tall frame of his. It didn't seem like that long ago that Sam was a gawky, clumsy teenager. Somehow, without Dean's permission, Sam had become a man.  
  
"You were staring at me," Sam said as he slid back into the front seat.  
  
"I was supervising."  
  
"Staring," Sam repeated.  
  
"Sam. I wasn't. I have to make sure you don't miss anything." Dean's smirk wavered slightly as he drove up to the carport he had built for his baby.  
  
"It's okay," Sam said softly. "I like looking at you, too." He pulled his door open and climbed out after a few seconds passed.  
  
Naturally, once Sam was gone Dean thought of a few sharp retorts. The problem was that none of them were very good. The reason for that was two-fold. In the first place he  _had_  been staring. In the second place, what the  _fuck_  did Sam mean? Was he just trying to goad Dean into a scrap? Was he trying to freak Dean out?  
  
If the latter was the goal then Sam owed himself a pat on the back.  
  
 _I like looking at you too._  
  
Dean had a feeling that words were going to rattle around in his brain for quite some time.  
  
He only realized he'd been sitting in the car for a while when Sam poked his head out the front door of the cabin and gave Dean a very distinct  _what the fuck_  look.  
  
Dean threw his door open and extracted his aching body from the car. "I'll be right there, Sammy. Keep your panties on."  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and withdrew into the cabin again.  
  
Dean leaned against his car and stared off down the dirt track. He squeezed his tired eyes shut and shook his head.  
  
 _No._  He wasn't going to let his brother get under his skin.  
  
Sam had grown up in a bizarrely isolated way. It was perfectly natural for him to say weird ass things that made no sense.  
  
At least, that was what Dean was going to continue to tell himself. It would work for the short term.  
  
Turning slowly, Dean took a deep breath then headed up the stairs to the cabin's front door.  
  
He slammed the door behind him and toed off his boots. After he kicked them out of the way he hung up his jacket on one of the hooks by the door.  
  
"Dirty rice for dinner?" Sam called out from somewhere down the hall.  
  
"Sure." It was one of his favorite dishes. Somehow, Sam always seemed to manage to make it smell and taste like it had meat in it. Quite an accomplishment.  
  
Life wasn't all that bad. Well, at least for Dean. Sam was another story.  
  
"Hey, Sam." Dean trudged down the hallway with some jeans and t-shirts they had liberated from the warehouse.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You find that notice again?"  
  
"What?" There were pots banging around in the kitchen between Sam's words.  
  
"The one about that woman meeting up with people on the full moon." Dean tossed a pile of clothes onto the end of Sam's bed then headed over to his own room to set some jeans on the dresser.  
  
He turned to head to the kitchen and ran  _right_  into Sam. "Whoa."  
  
Sam caught Dean by the shoulders and held on. "I thought you said you didn't see the sign?"  
  
Ah yes, Dean thought. He  _had_  said that. "Just kind of popped into my head while I was looking at the brand label on the jeans," Dean said weakly.  
  
"Hmm." Sam nodded slightly.  
  
Dean was painfully aware of the tight grip his brother had on him. "Jogged my memory I guess."  
  
"The label," Sam said. He squeezed Dean's shoulders then let go.  
  
Nodding, Dean tried to shake off the tingling sensation he was left with in the wake of Sam's demonstration of the strength in his hands.  
  
Rather than continue the conversation Dean stepped past his brother and headed down the hall to the main room. "Jeans are on your bed," he muttered.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Dean headed towards the couch and flopped down on it. He was sure he hadn't heard the last of  _Jo_  and her offer to meet up with other survivors. It just wasn't something that really appealed to Dean. He was happy with Sam. Sam understood. Dean didn't have to be on his best behavior around his brother and he certainly didn't have to worry about Sam shooting him in the back.  
  
Since John had died some of the people they had run into hadn't been pleased to see them.  
  
They also had to be careful what they told people. A fortified cabin on high ground with a stocked basement would be coveted by most everyone. He'd always told Sam that it was best not to talk about it.  
  
"There's a full moon in a week, I think," Sam said and Dean nearly rolled right off the couch.  
  
"Do  _not_  sneak up on me, Sam. I can't be responsible for my reactions." Dean had meant that he might throw a punch but judging by the way Sam was laughing he didn't inspired confidence.  
  
"You won't be laughin' if I drop-kick you instinctively."  
  
Sam just laughed a bit harder and headed back to the kitchen.  
  
"We're still gonna talk about it," Sam said. "No matter how many times you change the subject."  
  
Dean snorted and folded his arms so he could get comfortable on the couch. The nice thing about working their own hours was that there was always time for a nap. And Dean liked falling asleep to the sounds of Sam in the kitchen. It reminded him of when their mother would be cooking dinner after their dad got home from work.  
  
John was working as a mechanic back then. He would emerge through the back door about an hour before suppertime.  
  
 _"How was today, family?"_  John would call out.  
  
Dean always yelled back from in front of the TV that everything was fine. A short time later he would hear his Mom's voice then light and musical laughter from the kitchen.  
  
Back then, John had always been able to make Mary laugh.  
  
Things had changed later but Dean always liked to remember the way his father came home in such high spirits.  
  
"About twenty minutes," Sam said. He smacked Dean's foot as he walked past the couch.  
  
"Mmhmm."  
  
"And while we eat I wanna talk about the full moon meet-up."  
  
Eyes still closed Dean gritted his teeth. He could feel something tightening along his jawline and rubbed at it.  
  
Ever since he had begun to walk Sam had been stubborn and Dean knew that wasn't about to change.  
  
This visit to the warehouse, Sam would have written down the information for the meet-up.  
  
If Dean was lucky, he mused, he would sleep right through the interrogation meal.  
  


  
  


  
  
"It's just  _not_  a good idea, Sammy. The first thing we should do is stake out the meet-up and see who shows." They'd been arguing about it for over half an hour.  
  
Sam failed to see the problem with just going along to the rendezvous point at the warehouse and bailing if things felt off.  
  
"We can take care of ourselves, Dean. we always have. I'm sure we could handle whoever it is that shows up."  
  
"We just don't know that, Sam." Dean had busted out one of the bottles of whisky they'd found in the basement. He poured himself another shot and watched as Sam's gaze centered on the bottle. If he drank more than a couple of glasses he would only incur Sam's wrath. There were just some discussions that Dean was getting tired of having.  
  
"Are you worried about something else?" Sam's hands were clasped together tightly.  
  
"What?" Dean drained his glass and set it down on the coffee table.  
  
"Is this about something other than our safety? Are you worried about something else?" Sam twisted his fingers together and looked down at them.  
  
"Like what, Sam?" Dean fiddled with the neck of his t-shirt. He was suddenly feeling a little  _too_  warm.  
  
Shrugging, Sam looked back up at his brother. "Are you worried that I'll want to take off or something? 'Cause I won't ever -"  
  
"- No. I mean. Hell, if you want to take off that's fine. I wouldn't stop you. Is that what -"  
  
"- No! Jesus. You're the most important person in the world to me," Sam said adamantly.  
  
"I'm the  _only_  person," Dean murmured.  
  
"That's not why I feel the way I feel-"  
  
"God," Dean broke in. "Why are we even talking' about this? We're  _not_  goin' to any stupid meet-up with anyone. That's it. It's just too big a risk and could ruin everything we've worked so hard for."  
  
The room fell  _very_  silent. It was so silent that Dean felt damned uncomfortable for the first time ever at the cabin. After waiting a few more heartbeats for Sam to speak, Dean picked up the whisky bottle and poured himself another drink.  
  
"That's not gonna help, you know," Sam said quietly.  
  
Dean look up and narrowed his gaze. "It helps some things, Sam."  
  
"Never helped Dad," Sam shot back.  
  
"Do not  _ever_  compare me to him," Dean said gruffly. He drained the whisky from his glass and set it down on the coffee table carefully.  
  
The room fell silent again and Sam just stared for a while. His eyes had widened slightly and he looked a little pale.  
  
Dean was just about to pour himself another drink when he realized that Sam looked nervous. And why wouldn't he be? Dean had hollered at him and laid down the law; those were two things that Dean hadn't done in a very long time. Actually, he couldn't remember the last time he had raised his voice. That was something he tried to leave in the memories of their father.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sam."  
  
All Sam did was shrug and then he stood slowly as though trying to look calmer than he felt. His hands slid into the front pockets of his jeans and he let out a shaky sigh. "Listen, Dean. I'm tired. I'm gonna go to bed early. Read for a while."  
  
"Aw, Sam. Don't do that. I'm sorry. I just get all freaked out when we start talkin' about meeting people." Dean knew he didn't have a good excuse. He didn't even have a  _reasonable_  excuse."  
  
"It's all good, Dean." Sam backed away a few steps then smiled briefly. "Just tired."  
  
He turned quickly and headed off down the hall.  
  
When Dean heard Sam's door click shut, he swore softly and flopped back into the soft cushions of the old couch. His hands covered his face and he groaned.  
  
Okay, so, he sucked at having conversations with his little brother when it came to things he felt a little insecure about. And yeah, he was scared that Sam would take off. Sam was the kind of guy that would do really well around other people. He would thrive in a group environment. Dean had known his brother long enough to know that.  
  
They weren't cut from the same cloth. Even though he'd never known his mother, Sam was so much more like her than his father. Sure, he was a damn good fighter; Dean always trusted Sam to have his back. But there was a gentleness in Sam that would draw people to him.  
  
As it was, the few people that Sam and Dean had met had obviously taken a liking to Sam. With his shaggy hair, unusual eyes and that stupid lopsided smile - Sam always drew people in even if they were the most hesitant of strangers.  
  
It was Dean who wasn't generally trusted by people. They always gave him a wide berth.  
  
So. Yeah. Dean was terrified that Sam would meet someone and, without even meaning to, he would drift out of Dean's life.  
  
"Too tired for this," Dean muttered. He stood on aching legs and swayed slightly before heading down the hall.  
  
The light was still on and Dean could see it under Sam's door. He hesitated there for a few moments. He even lifted his hand up to knock then ended up just pressing it gently to the wooden door. "Night, Sammy," he whispered. "I'm watchin' over you."  
  
Dean headed into his own bedroom and sat down on the edge of his bed. He hadn't bothered closing the door. For some reason, being able to see the light under Sam's door seemed really important. It felt like Sam was close and that was exactly where Dean liked his brother.  
  
The bed creaked when Dean flopped back on it. He settled on his side and stared at the light until he couldn't keep his eyes open a moment longer.  
  


  
  


  
  
It had been raining for three days. There were no trips out from the cabin when it was raining. Rain added too many unknowns. The sound of a rain storm made it harder to hear creepers. The puddles made the ground more slippery. There were just too many things that could go wrong.  
  
For three days the brothers had been holed up at the cabin. It had been alright for the first day; they'd had some work to do around the cabin.  
  
The second day Sam had finished cleaning out the basement. It was a job he'd been putting off for a very long time.  
  
Dean had spent the second day cleaning and fine tuning all their bows. He'd even cleaned two rifles and three pistols, not that they were used very often.  
  
The morning of the third day Dean found that he had nothing left to do. He hadn't realized how much he had looked forward to their semi-daily scavenger trips. It was a taste of the freedom that they didn't really have.  
  
When he could get behind the wheel of the car and speed down the road Dean didn't have much time to feel trapped.  
  
Trapped was exactly how he felt when the third day rolled around.  
  
He kept both hands curled around his coffee mug. The rain had brought with it colder temperatures.  
  
"Dean!" Sam's voice was muffled by the door. Dean didn't bother to answer; it wasn't as though Sam would have trouble finding him.  
  
The cabin door creaked open and Dean heard his brother's footsteps. "What you doin'?"  
  
Smiling, Dean held up his coffee for Sam to see then took another sip of it. Even with the powdered milk in it it still tasted pretty good to Dean. Coffee was a real treat. After three days inside Dean had felt as though he deserved a treat.  
  
Sam bumped his shoulder into his brother's as he stopped beside him. "This the longest we've been stuck in here?"  
  
Dean shook his head. "Last winter. Snowstorm. Four days."  
  
"Right," Sam said.  
  
Dean's smile became a grin. "You opened the door after the blizzard and all that fuckin' snow fell on you."  
  
Chuckling, Sam threw his arm around his brother's shoulders. "You just watched me do it. You  _knew_  that was gonna happen."  
  
"That's what big brothers are for, Sammy." The warm weight of Sam's arm felt good on Dean's shoulders. He took a deep breath and felt himself relax a little. Sam had that effect on him.  
  
"Dean," Sam said.  
  
Right away Dean could tell that Sam was going to bring up something that Dean probably wouldn't want to talk about.  
  
"Dean. That night we were talking about meeting up with other people-"  
  
"-yeah. I'm sorry that I was so crazy."  
  
"No, no. I just. I just wanted to make sure that you know I won't ever leave you." Sam's voice was quiet; his breath was warm on Dean's cheek. He meant it, but Dean knew that promises of staying were easy to make when there was nowhere to go.  
  
"Yeah, Sammy. I know. I'll never leave your ass either," Dean joked. The last thing he wanted was for Sam to realize just how important he was to his older brother.  
  
But Sam just squeezed Dean's shoulders. "I mean it. I know you won't believe me; I know you don't think you're worth staying for."  
  
All the words hit far too close to home and Dean shrugged Sam's arm off his shoulders. "Jesus, I have  _some_  self-esteem, Sam."  
  
Taking a step back Sam nodded. "Okay."  
  
The instant Sam's arm was gone Dean shivered. He missed the weight of his brother's limb and the way it held him there, stopped him from racing off head first into crazy.  
  
"Want some breakfast?"  
  
"Sure." Dean nodded. "Love some."  
  
There was a break in the clouds; the door banged shut after Sam went back inside. The moment was gone.  
  


  
  


  
The weather changed as the weather does and Sam and Dean were able to escape the cabin. It was good for both of them to be back on the road. The cabin became too small  _very_  quickly when the brothers were confined to it for more than an evening.  
  
One trip led to them discovering an old broken down fair. It was still fenced in and once Dean had driven around it three times he deemed it safe enough for them to explore.  
  
Dean wasn't sure what Sam wanted with the broken down fair; but he had trouble refusing something that brought a smile to Sam's face.  
  
"Hold your horses, Sam." Dean steered as close to the front gate as possible then shut off the engine.  
  
As the engine ticked over the brothers looked around the car for any signs of creepers.  
  
After a few moments of looking Dean nodded. "Let's go look at your damn carnival."  
  
Sam shot out the door and grabbed the wire cutters from the bag in the back seat. He made short work of the chain that held the gate closed then tossed the tool back into the car.  
  
Eyes on their surroundings Dean waited until he heard the sound of the gate opening before he turned and followed Sam inside.  
  
Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a combination lock while Sam closed the gate behind them. At least they wouldn't have to worry about anything coming in after them.  
  
When Dean turned around Sam had already wandered off.  
  
Although the colors on some of the rides had faded Dean could imagine what it might have been like in its prime.  
  
"Guess you never saw one of these things in full swing, did ya?" Dean headed over to where Sam was standing by a brightly colored ticket booth.  
  
A lot of the light bulbs that had once lit up the booth like a Christmas tree were just jagged edges in their sockets. But Dean could see the lingering memory of it in his mind.  
  
Sam leaned into the ticket booth and looked around before turning back to face Dean. "What was it like?"  
  
"Noisy," Dean said as they began to stroll through the fairgrounds. "I was just a little kid when Dad took me. He gave me some money and dropped me off at a birthday party at the fair. There were  _so_  many people."  
  
Sam glanced at his brother as they walked then he looked over at the ferris wheel and headed in that direction.  
  
"Food and stuff?" Sam asked as his gaze moved over a small wagon with faded corn dogs dancing on the side of it.  
  
"Yep," Dean answered. he kicked a rusty can ahead of them. "Donuts, popcorn, cotton candy. You'd love cotton candy."  
  
"Yeah?" Sam stopped at what looked like it had once been some kind of game. There were small black balls and some old, dirty bowling pins.  
  
"Set 'em up," Dean commanded with a grin.  
  
As Sam climbed over the counter and into the booth he glanced back at Dean and grinned. "I've never met candy that I didn't like."  
  
"I know it." Dean leaned on the counter and watched as Sam tried to find all the fallen pins.  
  
"Know what else they had, Sammy?  _Mini_  donuts. A whole bag of 'em was two bucks and they were one of those things. Like, the first one tasted awesome and then the rest would be gone and you'd feel sick to your stomach."  
  
Sam laughed and set up the last of the bowling pins. He tossed a couple of the balls to Dean. "Have at it, Ace."  
  
Snatching the balls out of the air Dean grinned. He took a couple of moments to aim and then stepped forward into a blistering throw.  
  
The ball clipped the top of one bowling pin and it fell backwards; the other pins remained standing.  
  
"You need some target practice, Dean." Sam smirked and set the pin back up.  
  
Heat crept up Dean's neck. "The problem is that my aim is too precise. I'm used to headshots."  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
"You trying' to say I've got bad aim?" Dean tossed the remaining ball from one hand to the other.  
  
"Don't you  _dare_ ," Sam said as he began to walk backwards away from Dean.  
  
"Think of it as target practice," Dean said as he tossed the ball back to his throwing hand.  
  
Dean wound up and aimed at Sam's thigh. The second the ball left Dean's hand, but Sam was in motion. He dropped to the ground behind the bowling pins and rolled to the left.  
  
The ball collided with one of the seats at the bottom of the ferris wheel hard enough to make it sway back and forth.  
  
"Whoa," Sam whispered. he crawled out from under the counter and looked over at the Ferris wheel.  
  
"What? Amazed at the strength of my throw?" Dean deadpanned.  
  
Shaking his head Sam chuckled. "No. Idiot. That's a real Ferris wheel."  
  
Puzzled Dean nodded. "Yes it is, Sam."  
  
"I've never seen one, Dean." Clamboring to his feet Sam vaulted over the small fence and took off at a run.  
  
"Jesus," murmured Dean. "What a freak." He followed his little brother in spite of his amusement.  
  
The thing was that Dean often forgot that there were so many everyday things that Sam had never experienced. He'd been born into a diseased world on the brink of being full of broken down machinery and no electricity.  
  
Sam read so many damn books that he could tell Dean just about anything. It was easy to forget that Sam didn't have the memories that Dean did.[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/twoboys2love/66949000/7745/7745_original.jpg)  
  
"Wait up!" Dean called out.  
  
But Sam had already reached the Ferris wheel. The seat swung back when Sam climbed on it. He sat there patiently waiting for Dean to catch up.  
  
"What the  _hell_  are you gonna do?" Dean asked as he arrived.  
  
"Gonna climb it."  
  
"No. You're not. Sam, this thing is ancient! Who knows how safe it is?" Dean stared at his brother. "Idiot."  
  
"Oh. Come on, Dean. We do more dangerous things than this almost every day." Sam's expression said it all.  
  
Dean followed the curve of the giant metal wheel with his gaze then shook his head. "You're insane. Certifiable."  
  
"Whatever," Sam muttered. Without another word Sam reached above his head and hauled himself up onto the metal frame.  
  
Dean watched as Sam's long arms and legs moved to grab one piece of metal frame after another. When he realized that Sam had no intention of stopping he sighed and let his head fall forward for a few moments. "Goddammit, Sam."  
  
He shrugged out of his leather jacket and laid it over a broken down bench before blowing out a breath and shaking out his arms.  
  
Sam was about halfway up the Ferris wheel's frame when Dean grabbed hold of the rusty metal.  
  
"You're gonna get tetanus or somethin'. Then I'll have to take care of you," Dean muttered as he climbed. "I'll have to find more fuckin' medical shit. And all because you wanna climb up this old piece of crap."  
  
"Did you say something?" Sam was about forty feet above Dean. He couldn't possibly have heard anything. But he did know his brother.  
  
"I said," Dean called up. "You're a freak." He kept climbing and brushed his hands off on his jeans every now and then.  
  
The Ferris wheel was clanking and groaning in the wind and Dean glared up at Sam. "If I fall to my death I'm gonna  _kill_  you."  
  
Sam's laughter was carried down to Dean on the cold wind. Sure, Sam was laughing now but he wouldn't be when one of them plummeted to their death.  
  
As he climbed, Dean continued to mutter and look up occasionally. The higher he climbed on the old fair ride the stronger the wind became. It was a cold wind and Dean began to regret having left his jacket at the bottom.  
  
Dean hauled himself up to another arm of the wheel and looked up in time to see Sam climb into the uppermost seat. It swung and creaked for a few moments then Sam peered over the edge. "Having trouble,  _older_  brother?"  
  
"Shut up," Dean grumbled. "I'm already gonna kick your ass when I get up there."  
  
Sam laughed and Dean had to smile because, well, Sam laughing had always been a really good thing.  
  
Dean shimmied along the rusty arm until he could reach the bottom of the chair Sam occupied.  
  
The seat rocked back and forth and then Sam's hand appeared over the edge to grab Dean's. "Come on up, Bro."  
  
Dean let Sam haul him up into the seat and climbed over his brother to cram his ass into the remaining space on the old seat.  
  
For a few moments the seat swung precariously then it settled.  
  
"Fuck, it's cold up here," Dean muttered.  
  
"A little, but look at the view."  
  
The wind was blowing Sam's hair around and his cheeks were ruddy. He looked good. He looked good and he looked happy.  
  
"There's the road we came in on," Sam said as he pointed.  
  
Dean's gaze followed Sam's finger and he nodded. There were so many buildings, abandoned vehicles, empty parking lots. Dean had explored most of it with Sam. It was a little sad to have it all laid out in front of him.  
  
"What?" Sam thumped his hand on Dean's thigh.  
  
Startled Dean jumped and the seat swung for a few seconds. "What?  _What_?"  
  
"You were thinking about something; you had that look on your face."  
  
Dean took a deep breath. "I guess. I mean, we've been to most of these places, right?"  
  
Sam nodded and looked back at the scenery.  
  
"It just makes me realize how small our world is." It was kind of a shitty realization. They did the same thing day in and day out and they would run out of places to explore sooner rather than later. Then what? Dean shivered.  
  
"Where's your jacket?" Sam asked.  
  
"Bottom." Dean shrugged a shoulder but when the wind gusted again he trembled.  
  
"That was stupid." Sam slung his arm over Dean's shoulders and pulled him as close as he could.  
  
At first Dean resisted but when Sam's jean jacket opened the heat of his side seeped into Dean. Sam was always warmer than Dean. When he'd been a kid he'd always kicked the covers off at night.  
  
"Better?"  
  
Sam's breath was warm against Dean's cheek and everything began to feel a little more frightening to Dean. Dangerous ground. "Better."  
  
As though it was  _perfectly_  normal to be sitting there at the top of a rusty old Ferris wheel Sam wriggled to get comfortable and then looked out over the fair grounds.  
  
"You know, Dean. About what you said. We don't need new places all the time. I got you, right?" Sam's fingers tightened on Dean's shoulder.  
  
There was a lump in Dean's throat and he coughed nervously. He might be nodding but his mind was going through the millions of reasons that Sam was wrong.  
  
It was the story of Dean's life. His brain felt like it was split down the middle. There was the selfish part of him that didn't want his brother to leave, to meet people, to potentially move on.  
  
Then there was the more rational part of Dean's mind. He knew that he had no right to hold Sam back from meeting other people. Maybe Sam had to chase after his own dreams. Maybe it was time to let him do that.  
  
"I climb all the way up here to have a look at the world and you get all quiet," Sam began. "You're not giving me shit. You're not complaining-"  
  
"- I could," Dean said sharply.  
  
"Really, Dean. Tell me what you're thinking about."  
  
There was such an earnest look on Sam's face that, for a moment, Dean was tempted. But the problem was that he knew himself and he knew it would only take one creeper encounter before Dean was convinced he needed to keep Sam as close as possible.  
  
Dean cleared his throat and couldn't help leaning in closer to the warmth radiating from Sam. "Just. I guess I'm just thinking about our plans. What problems we might run into around the next corner."  
  
"Do you ever think about anything else?"Sam shifted a little and tightened his hold on his brother.  
  
Dean realized his mistake. He was trapped at the top of a Ferris wheel. It wasn't like he could just  _leave_. "Do I ever think about anything other than keeping you safe? No."  
  
Sam huffed and it was all frustration. Dean knew his brother well enough to hear it.  
  
"Sam, I think about other things: the cabin, fixing the car, pie. I think about pie a lot."  
  
"I'm serious, Dean." Sam stretched his legs out and the seat rocked back and forth.  
  
"What do you want me to do? Lie? I've been thinking about the historical significance of books and a new recipe for pasta sauce."  
  
"Oh, fuck off." Sam clearly meant it but there was an undertone of fondness.  
  
"You don't like pasta?"  
  
When Sam said nothing Dean felt a little guilty. "I think about Mom sometimes."  
  
Dean kept his eyes straight ahead but he could feel his brother's gaze burning into him.  
  
"What was she like?"  
  


  
  


 


	3. Chapter 3

Every time Sam asked about their mother Dean felt like he just wasn't worthy of trying to describe her. But he loved Sam so he always tried.

"She was beautiful, Sammy. I really think that's where I got my idea of what an angel looks like." Dean's mouth felt really dry and he ran his tongue over his teeth.

Sam nudged his brother.

"When she picked me up she would bend over and her hair would fall forward in all these waves of gold." When Dean fell silent he could feel the burn of his brother's gaze. He turned his head slowly and he found himself gazing into his brother's eyes.

Sam's eyes were a little glassy. It could be the bite of the wind but it could be something else.

"That's pretty beautiful. Specially comin' from you," Sam said softly.

It took all of Dean's willpower not to look at Sam's lips. He went with his default humor.

“Especially comin' from me? You always doubt me, Sammy. It hurts that you don't think that I can be as sensitive as the next guy."

"There are no next guys."

"True."

"But, I'd wanna hang with you anyway." Sam's cheeks were almost glowing because of the wind and he was beginning to shiver.

As the words settled into Dean's thick skull he couldn't help smiling. "Sam, I'm freezing my ass off. Can we get down now?"

The moment between them dissipated as Sam turned away to laugh. "Yeah. Let's go before your delicate self gets hypothermia."

Sam pulled his arm back from Dean's shoulders and his warm palm pressed against the back of Dean's neck for a few moments. The heat of that touch seared Dean's skin. And then it was gone and Sam was throwing a long limb over the front of the rocking chair.

The climb down was faster. Dean wasn't sure about Sam but it was the cold that spurred him on.

The wind whipped at Dean's t-shirt as he jumped down to the ground. The first thing he did was snatch up his jacket and wriggle into it. The lining was cold and Dean ran his hands up and down his arms.

"Sammy, let's get out of here. I'm cold and hungry and I wanna go home."

Laughing again Sam hopped down off the Ferris wheel. He grabbed Dean's hand and tugged him into motion. "Move it."

It wasn't like Dean needed Sam to pull him along but the strength in his brother's hand was comforting.

"I'm havin' a bath tonight," Dean said.

"I will even heat up the water for ya."

"What did I do to deserve that?" Dean couldn't hide his surprise. Normally, they would scrap over it.

Sam stopped so suddenly that Dean thumped into his back. "What the hell, Sam?"

"You really do know what you mean to me, right, Dean? The most important person."

"I'm one of the only people."

"Why do you continuously do that?"

Stepping back Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Do what?"

"You always act as though the only reason that I wanna be around you is because I have no other choice. It's not true. It's never been true." Folding his arms across his chest Sam grimaced as though something hurt.

That was because Dean knew it was true. If there were people around Dean would just fade away into the background. There was something special about Sam. He was bright, caring, thoughtful. Sam was so much more than his older brother. It didn't matter how many times Sam said things; they didn't magically become the truth.

"We should get goin'," Dean said.

For a moment it looked as though Sam was going to protest. His steady gaze was a little unnerving. Then he sighed, turned and headed off towards the car.

Dean closed his eyes. Just minutes before everything had seemed great. Sam had been smiling, they'd been more carefree than usual. But Dean always seemed to be able to ruin it. Or. Maybe Sam was protesting a little too much. Maybe, that was why Sam wanted to meet other people so badly.

The bite of the wind made Dean shiver and he shoved his hands into his pockets before heading off after his brother. When Dean looked up Sam was already climbing over the fence. He dropped down gracefully on the other side of the fence.

Dea watched his brother. He'd seen Sam change so much over the years. Sam had always seemed lanky and thin and then over the past summer things had begun to change.

Now Sam was probably equal to his brother in terms of strength. He could take care of himself. He didn't need Dean for a damn thing anymore. Hell, Dean couldn't even have a real discussion with his brother half the time without feeling inadequate.

The car horn honked and Dean quickened his pace. Just another day.

 

The diner had been a bad idea from the very beginning. For some reason, Sam had got a bee up his ass about getting some coffee filters and equipment. He'd found a library book that led him to believe that there was a certain kind of espresso machine that may work without electricity. Sam liked to take things apart to learn about them. And he was obsessed with the idea of being able to make his brother more than instant coffee.

They'd never explored the diner before; Dean wasn't sure why. He'd meant to go through the small building but there had always been something that had seemed more important.

So. They had swung around the building a couple of times in the car and the coast had been clear.

Sam managed to pick the lock on the diner door quickly. It was a little surprising that the door was still locked. Of course, most people wouldn't be looking for an espresso machine.

There was a terrible smell inside the diner and bile crawled up Dean's throat. "Jesus Christ. what the fuck died in here?"

Sam grimaced and wiped his hand on his jeans. "Gross. I'd say a lot of things died in here including whatever it was that I just stuck my hand in."

Chuckling Dean scanned the diner and discovered a rotting corpse in the far corner. That was probably the source of the stink and the greasy sensation in the air.

Dean nudged Sam's shoulder and nodded in the direction of the corpse.

"That explains it," Sam muttered. He slung his crossbow onto his back and headed behind the counter. He yanked a door open, crouched and rifled through some dishes that were in a box.

"What the hell are you looking for, Sammy?"

As he peered over the top of the counter, Sam pushed his hair out of his eyes. "I don't know. Parts? Anything I can use."

There wasn't much that Dean could do but nod. He knew about Sam collecting bits and pieces of things. And Dean was always in favor of coffee of any origin.

Something clattered in the back of the diner and Dean raised his crossbow. "Sam."

"I heard." Sam set down the bowl he was holding and stood slowly.

It was automatic; the way Dean slowed his breathing, moved his eyes over the room in a steady search pattern.

Head tilted slightly Sam narrowed his gaze and widened his stance. There weren't any other sounds from the back of the building so Dean took a few steps forward. He held his hand out for Sam to stay where he was. As far as Dean was concerned there was never any reason for them both to be in danger.

Dean didn't need to look at his brother’s face to know that Sam would be frowning. He hated when Dean automatically took the lead.

There was a crash behind the door at the back of the diner and Dean hopped up onto the counter so he could swing his legs over and drop down on the other side.

There was a strange crack and just as Dean's eyes darted towards the noise the door flew open and Dean was face to face with a creeper.

Its eyes were weeping; a film, like onion skin, covered them. But the instant its gaze locked onto Dean it lunged forward.

Rotting fingers narrowly missed Dean's face and he hopped back up onto the counter before swinging hard and fast at the creeper's head with the butt of his crossbow. Just as it slammed wetly into the rotting skull there was another crunch as the front door was forced open.

Two more creepers lurched into the diner and Dean felt adrenaline scorching its way through his veins.

He glanced back over his shoulder as the creeper slid off the end of his crossbow. Sam was aiming at a creeper's head. His fingers hooked on the sting and he pulled back steadily. The arrow let loose with a slight whoosh and thumped into the left eye of the nearest creeper.

The putrid corpse dropped like it was stuffed with bricks but there were still three more behind it. Dean dropped down to the old linoleum floor and strode up to his brother's shoulder.

Sam let another arrow fly and, somehow, the creeper managed to lean to the side in time to avoid the projectile.

"Fuck," Sam murmured just loud enough for Dean to hear before he was in motion.

He slotted in an arrow and aimed over Sam's shoulder.

Four creepers in the open doorway.

"Dean?" Sam was reaching behind him, nimble fingers searching for something to use as a weapon now that the creepers were too close for him to set an arrow. The crossbow would be completely ineffective and things were getting out of control quickly..

Another arrow thunked into another squishy eyeball as Dean let fly. He stepped back and glanced to the side in time to see Sam swing a huge knife in a downward arc to split the forehead of another creeper.

The blade in Sam's hand sliced into the meat of the closest creeper's neck. A fountain of thick, clotted blood sprayed at Sam and covered his face.

"No! Sammy!" Dean lunged over and snatched the knife from his brother's hand and swung crazilly. He could hear Sam coughing and tried to keep himself between his brother and the creepers still moving further into the diner.

They needed an exit and they needed it as soon as possible.

Dishes crashed to the floor behind Dean and he turned in time to see Sam stumble to the side.

Dean threw the knife down and another arrow thocked into the furthest creeper's head then Dean swung the crossbow to slam into the face of a second.

Dean stumbled when the weight of his little brother slammed against his back.

Covered in blood. Sammy was covered in blood. He'd been immune to the airborne virus just like everyone else in their family; blood was a different story. There was no conclusive science about what pathogens were contained the a creeper's blood.

Dean swung the crossbow and it squelched into the temple of another creeper then he aimed and fired over the thing's shoulder. The arrow slammed into the skull of another creeper.

He felt Sam's fingers clawing at his shirt then finding purchase on his belt. Sam was still coughing, aiming his face away from Dean.

In quick succession Dean seated and shot three more arrows and dropped three more creepers that had found their way in.

As Dean hooked his arm through his brother's he swung them both out of range of a putrid smelling long-armed creeper. He threw Sam towards the swinging kitchen doors and hoped there was nothing on the other side.

"Dean?"

As Sam's body disappeared through the doors Dean kicked at the knee of a creeper and saw it crumple down to the diner floor even though it was still trying to claw its way towards Dean.

The counter in front of Dean wobbled as another creeper banged into it. Realizing the counter was loose Dean kicked it into the path of all the clamoring creatures.

"Fuck," he yelled. The groaning and squelching, crunching and cracking wasso loud it was an assault on its own. He fired two more arrows into soggy flesh then spun and crashed through the doors behind him.

Sam hadn't gotten far. He was just a short distance through the door and had managed to find some cloth to wipe his face with.

The fetid, black substance was all over Sam's face and neck. His hair was dark and wet and plastered to his forehead and cheeks.

"Let's go," Dean said. He could tell by the way Sam was squinting that he still couldn't see properly. He grabbed his brother's wrist and dragged him towards the back entrance.

It had begun to rain outside and Sam nearly lost his footing on the slick pavement.

"Stay here." Dean shoved Sam back against the wall then shoved a huge trash skiff down a few feet until it was blocking the door.

"Dean? I can't -"

"Stay here!" Dean shoved an arrow at Sam's chest until he took it. "I'm gonna get the car from around front."

"How -"

"Just shut up and if you hear anything other than baby ... kill it."

Without waiting for a reply, Dean took off at a run.

Luck was with him and there were no creepers between him and the car. All of them seemed to be inside the damn diner.

The engine roared to life and Dean pinned the accelerator to the floor.

Sammy covered in blood.

Gravel shot out from under the tires and pattered against the diner wall as Dean sped around the corner of the building. As soon as he saw Sam, Dean slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a halt just beside Sam who was already stumbling towards the sound of the engine.

Leaning across the seat Dean shoved the passenger door open in time to see Sam double over and throw up.

"Christ," Dean murmured. "Did it get in your mouth?" Things were getting worse by the moment.

Sam dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and frowned as he nodded. "Little. Fuckin' gross."

Fear slithered icy and thick into Deans veins. "Get in the fucking car."

There must have been something in Dean's voice that gave away his fear because Sam froze for a few moments before banging into the door frame.

Dean groaned angrily and reached across to snatch hold of Sam's jacket. He pulled roughly and yanked Sam down into the car.

"Shut the fucking door, Sam."

"Jesus," Sam murmured. But his hand fumbled along the door until the found the handle and pulled it closed.

The engine roared again as Dean stamped his foot down.

"Where are we goin', Dean?" There was a waver in Sam's voice.

"Clarence." The Clarence building was in the outskirts of town but it would only take a few minutes to get there. It was the only building near enough to have a huge water tank on the roof. Dean had rigged it in their first few months at the cabin to send cold water straight to a shower head.

"Gotta get that shit offa you," Dean murmured. His shoulder bumped into the door when he made a sharp left turn.

"Dean? Slow down," Sam said firmly.

For the briefest moment Dean thought about moving his foot off the gas. But he shook his head. He really needed to get his brother to the Clarence.

Sam sighed. "Dean. Slow down. the damage is done- I got that disgusting -"

"Fuck you. I'm not slowin' down."

"Dean! It got in my mouth I think and my eyes. It's too late and I -"

"Do not say that shit to me," Dean spat.

There were so many different things scratching around in Dean's mind. But Sam turning? No. Just no. The thought of it made all Dean's blood turn to sludge in his veins.

Even though the drive felt like it took a thousand years Dean was relieved when he could pull into a parking spot right in front of the door to the Clarence. He turned the car off, climbed out quickly then jogged around to the other side.

Sam was already getting to his feet; his eyes were wide and glistening.

There were no words in Dean's brain that would have made any sense to Sam so he stuck to the basics.

Once Sam was on his feet Dean grabbed two handfuls of his brother's jacket and yanked him into motion. "You know the drill, Sammy."

Sam's eyes widened even more and he grabbed the door frame for support. But he stayed quiet.

It could be true that Sam just didn't have anything to say but Dean thought it was probably more like Sam was thinking things that neither of them wanted to say out loud.

They stumbled toward the main building of the Clarence. Keys clutched in his hand Dean tried to stay calm as he struggled to open the door.

Sam. It was all about Sam.

The instant they were inside Dean slammed the door shut and shoved Sam towards the bathroom.

"Dean -"

"Shut up and get your clothes off." Dean knew the water would be ice cold but he didn't care.

He set his crossbow down on the old mattress and sat down. Anxiety was vibrating through his body and he hated it.

A rustling sound drew Dean's gaze and he watched as Sam shrugged out of his jacket. His fingers shook as he unbuttoned the plaid shirt he'd put on that morning to keep warm.

The white t-shirt was tight across Sam's chest and Dean looked away momentarily. He didn't like the way his eyes were drawn to the cut of Sam's muscles.

As Dean's eyes moved down to Sam's shoulder, his heart nearly staggered to a halt. Blood. There was blood on Sam's collar and sleeve.

"What?" Sam's eyes widened as he froze under his brother's gaze.

Not willing to trust his voice Dean stayed silent. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and willed his legs to hold his weight when he stood.

As slowly as he could manage Dean stood and walked over to his brother. He yanked on the sleeve of Sam's shirt until his shoulder was bare then ran his fingers over the smooth skin checking for bite marks.

By that time Sam had noticed the blood and was staring down at his other arm.

Dean pulled the collar of Sam's t-shirt out until it was stretched taut. The blood was coming from a gash on Sm's neck. All the muscles in Dean's body cramped and he felt like he was going to be torn limb from limb. "Did you get bitten?"

"What?" Sam's face blanched. "No. I don't - I don't think so. No. I would know, right?"

Something clicked to life in Dean's chest and he launched into motion. He strode over to the beat-up dresser where he had stashed some medical supplies. Sam would be okay. He would be fine.

There was a bottle of alcohol and a packet of disinfectant wipes and Dean grabbed both of them before heading back to his brother.

"Dean? It'll be okay. I'd know if I was bitten. the blood wasn't - "

The press of an antiseptic pad to the wound in Sam's neck silenced him. Dean rubbed the small, white cloth over the torn flesh roughly and Sam flinched.

Dean yanked hard on Sam's arm. "Stay still."

Sam's jaw was clenched tightly; a muscle twitched under his stubbled cheek.

The cloth had turned almost completely red with blood and Dean tossed it aside. Anger surged up within Dean; a wave of heat tore at him and he yanked at Sam's shirt until it was torn and pulled away from his body.

Panting, clearly frightened, Sam struggled in his brother's grasp. "Dean, stop. Fuck -"

The words rattled around in Dean's head but it didn't stop him from driving his hands against Sam's shoulders to push him towards the dingy bathroom. "Get in there."

"Dean. Stop." There was a waver in Sam's voice that cracked Dean's heart open a little bit.

Dean stepped into his brother and shoved him again. It was so stupid. They should never have been at the damned diner. It was Sam's fault; this was Sam's fault.

Sam tried to step around Dean but Dean just grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the bathroom.

There was a loud thump and Dean realized that Sam's shoulder had banged into the door frame.

"Jesus," Sam said weakly. He rubbed at his bare shoulder then stumbled and fell onto his knees.

Dean had to look away. He knew why he was so angry. He knew. He couldn't lose Sam. He couldn't survive if that happened. Hell, the easiest solution would be to just shoot himself in the head if Sam were gone.

"Dean. Just turn the water on," Sam said quietly. "Dean!"

The firm tone of Sam's voice got Dean's attention and he dropped his arms to his sides. For a while he just stared at his brother and then he was in motion again.

He moved slowly, deliberately and curled his fingers around the chain that would send the water out of the tank in a freezing torrent.

Dean was trembling and the chain clanked against the silver pipe that ran up through a hole in the ceiling. He watched as Sam managed to struggle to his feet. The chain was so cold it felt like it was burning Dean's hand.

"Okay," Sam said softly as he positioned himself under the pipe.

Dean swallowed then nodded and pulled the chain down as hard as he could.

There was a split second of silence and then the cascade of cold water slammed down onto Sam's body.

The shushing sound of the water was almost comforting and Dean closed his eyes. The noise hid any noises Sam might have made and that was just as well because Dean was teetering on the edge of losing his mind.

Soon, the water ran out. The only sound in the room was the dripping from the overhead pipe and the tiny splashes Sam made as he scrubbed the water over his arms, chest and shoulders.

The gash on Sam's neck was too bright; it drew Dean's gaze like some sort of beacon. But Dean couldn't stop looking anyway. the crescent shaped wound was the most horrifying thing Dean had seen in a very long time. Even without blood smeared around the opening in Sam's skin there was no way to tell if it was a bite. Even if it wasn't a bite fluids from one of the rotting corpses could have made it into Sam's bloodstream.

"Dean."

The sound of his name jarred Dean from his thoughts. When he looked over he could see that Sam was shivering where he was standing on the tile floor.

For the first time since their encounter with the creepers Dean realized how selfish he was being. It was Sam that had been hurt. Maybe they were in the diner on some fool's errand, but still. Sam had to be scared. Sam knew the consequences. Fuck.

Dean reached out and grabbed Sam's shoulders. Sam's skin was cold, slippery and as soon as he was facing Dean it was clear that he was shaking. "Let's get you dried off."

Nodding Sam folded his arms across his chest and leaned in closer to his brother.

Dean pulled Sam into his arms and held on tightly. He could feel the water from Sam's skin seeping into his shirt but he didn't care.

Just like it was the most natural thing in the world, Sam slid his arms around Dean's waist. That was one of the many amazing things about Sam: he just accepted everything as though it were perfectly natural. He never questioned Dean's affection for him, never felt it was too much or inappropriate or any of the things that Dean worried about.

Sam sighed against his brother's cheek and then nuzzled against Dean's neck.

It felt good and far better than it should but Dean wasn't going to let go. Yes. He was selfish. If he wasn't selfish he would tell Sam that hugging your older brother while you were half naked and wet just wasn't something that should ever happen.

"There are some clean, dry clothes in the box I left here before," Dean said into his brother's damp hair.

Sam nodded again and pulled free from the circle of his brother's arms. His gaze lingered on Dean's face for a few moments as though he was searching.

It was a little too real and Dean looked away then headed out of the bathroom.

Once he was in the main room again he opened up the box he'd left there. He had hoped that they would never have to use it.

So much time had passed since Dean had packed up the box that there was no way the t-shirt would fit Sam. He tossed the first one back in the box and found one of his own shirts.

When Dean turned around he almost ran into Sam. He cleared his throat, hoping that his emotions weren't etched all over his face. "Put this on."

Sam took the t-shirt and tugged it down over his head. The soft cotton clung to the damp skin of Sam's shoulders.

Turning away again Dean pulled out a pair of jeans and handed them to Sam. He headed over to the boarded up window and looked out. He could hear Sam struggling out of his wet jeans and dressing in the clean ones.

Dean's heart was thundering in his chest. "Let's go. We need to go. It'll be dark soon."

After a while Sam's cool fingers curled over Dean's wrist. "Dean? That's not the way this works."

Before Sam had even finished speaking Dean was in motion. He pulled out of his brother's grasp and walked over to the door. He paused there, mind spinning and looked back over his shoulder. "Sam. Let's go. We can be back at the cabin before dark."

"No. Dean. You know the rules. Infection can take ten hours. You put a lock on the outside of this door for a reason.

"No." Dean couldn't even entertain the idea that Sam might become one of the rotting walking they hunted.

"Dad's rules," Sam said as he moved closer. "You leave, you lock me in. After ten hours you come back."

Fuck John Winchester's rules. "No. Enough. You get your boots on and we're going." When Dean finally got the nerve to turn around Sam had almost reached him.

"Come on, Dean. Don't make this harder than it is already. Just tonight."

Dean was already shaking his head. The burn of encroaching tears made Dean rub at his eyes. He couldn't swallow; hell he could hardly breathe.

"It's alright, Dean." It was Sam's turn to pull his brother into an embrace.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut so tightly they ached. "I'll stay with you."

"That's not how it's supposed to go," Sam said in a soft voice. "You gotta lock me up and if I ... change you promise to finish it."

Dean couldn't get his mind wrapped around the fact that it was Sam, his little brother, who had all the strength. Sam was the one who had the courage to say what Dean couldn't even contemplate.

As Sam's body began to warm against Dean they tightened their embrace. Dean wound his fingers into the wet strands of hair covering the nape of Sam's neck.

Anger seeped into Dean, into every part of him. He should have taken better care of Sam. If his father were alive he'd probably give Dean a good punch in the jaw.

"This isn't -" Dean's voice broke as his lips moved against the smooth skin on Sam's neck. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and he tried to steady his breathing.

With all his feelings balled up inside Dean was full of a twisted stew of hurt, fear, apprehension and love. The intensity of it was making Dean's head spin. It was all Sam and he was so firm and warm that Dean couldn't resist the temptation and pressed his lips to Sam's collar bone.

He hadn't expected the way Sam slid his arms higher until they were wrapped around Dean's shoulders. The tight ring of those long arms was the best thing that Dean had felt in far too long.

As he turned his face closer to Sam's jaw he didn't try to keep his lips from rubbing over his brother's skin.

Sam let out an almost inaudible sigh. The breath moved down the back of Dean's neck and he curbed a building shiver by pressing tighter against his brother's chest.

It shouldn't feel right to Dean; he knew that. He knew that he should be the one telling Sam there was a line being crossed and it certainly wasn't okay to be doing what they were doing. But Sam wouldn't know where that line was. Sam had practically been raised by Dean. He knew that Dean would do anything to protect his little brother. Why would he ever assume that Dean would do anything that may not have Sam's best interests at heart?

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean murmured into his brother's skin. "I should have taken better care of you."

Shaking his head Sam pulled back until he could look into Dean's eyes. "No. You know better than anyone that I’m just as good a fighter as you. I'm old enough to take care of myself. This was just one of those things."

It was just like Sam to be so noble and realistic at the same time.

As Sam's arms fell away Dean felt the loss of it as though it was tangible. He clenched his hand into fists; his nails cut into his palms. "Let's go home, Sammy."

Sam Shook his head. "Ten hours, Dean."

Even though Dean knew what Sam was referring to he frowned. Ten hours after blood to blood contact. Back when it mattered if people were immune the Winchesters had been lucky enough to be passed over by the airborne pathogens.

But now.

Now. Anyone who was bitten or bled on when they were cut - everyone was at risk. Sam was at risk. "It doesn't even look like a bite."

"Doesn't matter," Sam said stoically. "Got in my mouth and eyes. You gotta lock me up overnight."

The anger reared again and Dean aimed it at his brother. "Don't be fuckin' stupid. You're fine. You're going to be fine. We need to go back to the cabin and just .. and just ..."

"Ten hours then you'll know. Then we can head back to the cabin if I'm okay."

If.

Dean's heart pounded in fear and he took a few steps back from his little brother.

"Okay," Dean said softly. "I'm not leaving though. You can argue all ya want."

Sam's brow furrowed and he rubbed at his shoulder just below the still seeping wound on his neck. "Okay."

After a few moments of silence Dean shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. He was unaccustomed to being uncomfortable around Sam. Usually, they had about a million things to say to each other. Half the time Dean thought Sam would never shut up.

Dean stood a few feet away from his brother until he couldn't stand the silence anymore. He swore under his breath and strode over to the door. He'd only popped the lock on the door handle when they came in; he'd been so worried.

He busied himself with the extra locks he'd installed back when they'd first set up the room. The grate and clunking of the locks sliding closed was always reassuring. It was routine in a completely unfamiliar situation.

While he was still staring at the door Dean heard the old mattress creak under Sam's weight. That was something Dean was familiar with; Sam lying on old motel room mattresses.

"You gonna stand there all night?" Sam sounded just as calm as he ever had in spite of everything that had gone on.

"I'm just makin' sure it's - oh nevermind." Dean squared his shoulders and straightened his jacket.

"Can you at least bandage my neck for me?"

For a little while Dean tried to come up with a reason not to but nothing felt realistic enough to garner Sam's belief.

Pacing over towards the small cooler on the table Dean sighed. He flipped the lid open and pulled out a bottle of water then tossed it onto the bed beside Sam. "Drink it."

There was no answer from the bed but Dean heard the bottle opening.

Instead of looking at his brother Dean headed back to the supplies to get the things he needed to patch up Sam's neck.

When he walked back to the bed Dean hesitated a few moments before sitting down.

Still lying on his back Sam looked over at his brother. "You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" It had always been easy for Dean to lie when it came to things like that. He wasn't sure if he was protecting himself or Sam but it didn't matter; a lie was a lie.

Something in Sam's eyes gave away that he wasn't at all convinced by Dean's words.

Even when he'd been a little kid Sam had a way of looking at people that made it look as though he was reading their minds. He just seemed to know and understand everything.

It was infuriating.

"Shut up," Dean sniped even though Sam hadn't said a word.

Sam turned his head away and took a slow, deep breath.

Before he said anything else that was just, well, idiotic Dean decided to focus on the injury to his brother's neck.

The edges of the half-moon wound were jagged and there were two unconnected slashes in the skin. It didn't look like a bite mark but then, it didn't not look like one either.

When Dean dabbed some alcohol onto the wound Sam's shoulders stiffened. "Sorry."

"It's all good."

The skin on Sam's neck looked raw and Dean wondered if it was from the scrubbing in the cold water.

Dean let his fingers trace over his brother's flesh. He avoided the wound, detoured around it and then traced the rise of Sam's collarbone.

Little bumps travelled across Sam's flesh and after a moment's hesitation, Dean pressed his palm to Sam's shoulder.

Very slowly, Sam turned his head and stared up into Dean's eyes. His lips curled into a crooked smile and then his hand covered Dean's.

The warmth of it was reassuring. How could Sam be sick if he felt so warm?

Dean allowed his fingers to ghost over Sam's chest. He let his eyes close under the weight of shame that was settling down on him. The touch...touching Sam. Jesus.

"Hey," Sam whispered hoarsely.

Dean's eyes shot open. One word and he knew that Sam could feel the difference in the touch. Sam could feel the more.

Just as Dean was about to move away he saw the wound again. There was one drop of blood travelling along the curve of Sam's neck. The blood rattled Dean again; it set off the anxiety, the fear of losing Sam.

Dean's eyes moved to the bow of Sam's lips. They were wet, the bottom lip swollen. Sam chewed on it when he was nervous and there had been a lot to be nervous about.

So, Dean took a chance. He wanted a chance. Leaning down Dean captured Sam's lips with his own. He felt his brother jump and steeled himself ... but Sam's lips parted and it was insane.

If he lost Sam, Dean would have the feel of that kiss ... one moment when he had let his guard down and let himself act on something that he normally hid away in the dark recesses of his mind.

He opened his mouth wider and Sam followed his lead. Heat flared inside Dean even though kissing Sam - the very idea of it - had fluttered through his mind many times he wasn't prepared for it to be real. He hadn't realized how fast his heart would beat when he tasted submission on his brother's lips. Nothing could have prepared Dean for the reality of Sam kissing him back.

The softness of Sam's mouth was like some kind of drug that made everything seem overwhelming and too big.

Sam broke away from the kiss to suck in a deep breath of air and Dean stilled. He stared down at the young man in front of him waiting for him to protest.

But Sam just smiled. It was the stupidly amazing, half smile that Sam got when trying to hide his happiness. A little shy, a little pleased. A whole fucking lot of what made Sam ... Sam.

There wasn't a part of Dean that didn't know how wrong it was for him to want Sam the way he did. It was all made worse by the fact that he was sure Sam didn't know how wrong it was. God.

Quiet. Still smiling, Sam lay there on his back gazing up at his brother. There was so much trust in Sam's eyes that Dean's mouth suddenly went dry.

Take care of your little brother, Dean..

Closing his eyes Dean pressed his palm to his brother's chest. He was sure he could feel Sam's rapid heartbeat. He sighed and pushed up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He felt sick and knew that he deserved it.

The bed creaked as Sam shifted around but Dean stayed there, staring at the locked door. He knew what he'd done and he knew that it could never happen again.

"I'll get you a blanket." Dean got up quickly and picked up the medical supplies. What he needed was to get away from Sam.

Typically, Sam stayed silent. He always seemed to know when there was nothing he could say that would make a difference to Dean. He might not know why Dean was upset but he would just be Sam. He would stay quiet with that half smile and he'd wait for Dean to want to speak to him. Dean knew he damn well didn't deserve a brother as good as Sam.

After standing at the table for a while Dean opened another one of the boxes. He pushed aside some clothing and found the old tartan blanket that their Dad used to keep in the car. God, it was so long ago.

When Dean held the blanket up he couldn't resist smelling the familiar scent of it. It used to smell like the car, like their dad but now it was just a blanket that just smelled like the musty old box.

Dean spun around quickly and tossed the blanket onto the end of the mattress near Sam's feet. He rubbed at the scratchy stubble on his chin; he really needed to shave.

Struggling to clear his throat Dean looked in Sam's direction but couldn't meet his gaze directly. "Listen. You're right."

Sam just blinked and reached down to pull the blanket over his legs. He nodded.

Whether or not Sam knew exactly what he right about, Dean couldn't be sure. But it didn't really matter.

"Sammy, listen. You'll be ... you'll be fine. Just a precaution, right?" The words felt pretty hollow to Dean but his mind was a bit of a mess.

While he nodded Sam pulled the blanket up a little higher. His eyes were wide, a little glassy, and maybe even a little sad.

It was too much for Dean. Turning quickly he unlocked the door and hesitated. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do to take back what he'd done so he headed outside.

Sam hadn't said a word.

As soon as the door closed behind him Dean covered his face with both hands and swore. The day had started out okay then everything had gone completely sideways.

If Sam became one of those flesh-craving creatures - Jesus Christ - the last thing his brother would remember would be that kiss. Going to hell would be the better option.

The locks thunked into place on the inside of the door and Dean realized Sam had gotten up. At least Sam was thinking clearly.

After locking the padlock on the outside of the door Dean had a quick look around. He headed over to move an old dumpster closer to the building. He hauled himself up onto the top and jumped up to grab the edge of the roof and managed to heave himself up.

There was already a chill in the air even though the sun hadn't disappeared below the distant horizon. Dean zipped up his jacket and flipped the collar up. Nothing would get near his little brother that night. Nothing.

 

Dean was pretty certain that the night had been about thirty hours long. When he finally tried to climb down from the roof he was so stiff that he fell from the top of the dumpster.

Groaning, Dean looked around as he stretched his arm up above his head. No creepers but the sun was barely up.

He glanced at his watch. Eleven hours had passed since he'd locked Sam down for the night.

Almost reluctantly, Dean stepped up to the locked door and pressed his ear to the wood. His fingers were already working the lock open..

Silence. That was good. It had to be good. It had to be good because Dean wasn't prepared for the alternative.

He banged on the door with his fist then listened again.

Nothing.

It was starting to rain. Dean could feel the occasional drop of cool water on his face.

Dean banged on the door harder then rested his forehead against it. "Sam. Open up!"

After sucking in a breath Dean held it. The pressure made his heartbeat slow for a few seconds then it sped up again. It was like his body was calling out for Sam.

Dean pounded the door even harder; hard enough, in fact, to send a dull pain radiating up his arm.

"Unlock this fucking door, Sam."

When there was no answer again Dean took a step back and flipped his jacket back to pull out his Colt.

Then - thank fuck - he heard a sound from the other side of the door. "Lemme in, Sammy."

"Just a minute," came a muffled reply from behind the door.

At the sound of the locks moving, Dean clenched his fists at his side. He could feel a tremble starting in his arms.

As soon as the door cracked open Dean gave it a really hard shove. There was a thump and something that sounded like Sam's voice.

Once Dean was inside he spun quickly and slammed the door. The room was plunged into darkness and after the early morning sun Dean couldn't see a thing. His arms flailed out as he turned towards the sound behind him and his hands finally found his brother.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah. Yes."

And Sam was clinging to Dean like he was never going to let go.

"Sam." Dean was so fucking relieved that he could hardly breathe.

"I'm okay, Dean. I slept and everything." Sam sounded happy and relaxed and he held Dean close to him.

Dean finally forced the air out of his lungs them buried his face in his brother's long hair. Just a week before he'd been going on about how Sam should cut it. Standing there with all those soft strands against his skin Dean silently vowed never to bitch about it again. "I - Jesus."

Sam pulled back a little and grinned at his brother. He slid his hand around to the back of Dean's neck. "It's all good."

Still not certain he was able to speak Dean just nodded.

"Take me home? I'm hungry and I want my clothes."

Even Dean found his lips curving into a smile. "Yeah." He pressed his hand to Sam's chest.

Home.

 

Being back at the cabin with Sam settled Dean's nerves. Something lingered in the back of his mind though. The incident at the diner? That was the closest call they'd had since they'd lost their father.

The near loss had wounded Dean to the core. He'd been forced to come face to face with some truths he really didn't want to know about himself.

And, yeah, he'd kissed his brother. It wasn't a nice-to-see-you peck on the cheek. It wasn't a drunken God-you're-the-best smootch. There was a longing behind that kiss that had been brewing for years. Dean had hidden that want away; never acted upon it and almost managed to forget it on occasion.

It had all changed when Dean had seen the blood trickling down his brother's neck. They'd been hurt before but nothing that had ever put their lives at risk. That blood had changed things.

Dean spent a few days hovering around Sam. He declared that they were having a staycation. They had plenty of supplies and they needed some downtime.

It wasn't really a problem for Sam. There was always something for him to do in the garden.

If Sam noticed Dean circling him like a inconstant satellite he didn't say a word. Sometimes, he would just smile at Dean, frown slightly and then return to whatever he was doing.

But all in all the time at the cabin was good even though Dean still felt compelled to go and check the gate every morning and every night.

On the other hand, Sam seemed quite content. He gardened. He fixed the living room window. He even washed some of their clothes. For some reason, Sam seemed oddly happy.

After their second day at the cabin Sam decided he was going into the stream to wash off the stain he'd been using on the front door of the cabin.

Dean grabbed a bottle of water and headed out the back door to join his brother.

When Sam saw his brother approaching he nodded a greeting and leaned down to cup water then splash it over his face.

"Cold?" Dean asked as he took his boots off.

"You bet your ass it's cold." Sam laughed and splashed water over his chest. He rubbed at some tan markings on his skin.

"Got more of that on you than the damned door." After he kicked his boots out of the way Dean pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it on the bank.

"Dude, at least I did something constructive. What were you doing? Oh, yeah. You were washing and shining up the car." There was a mischievous grin on Sam's face.

Dean narrowed his gaze. "I know you're not sayin' you think that my car is unimportant. 'Cause seriously? Baby's probably the most important object we own."

Rolling his eyes Sam went back to washing his arms.

The sun was warm and Dean closed his eyes for a while to soak up the heat. It felt good on his face and he could sense some of the tension seeping out of his body.

"Get movin'," Sam ordered.

"Bite me," Dean murmured.

"You're all sweaty."

"What do you care?"

For a few moments Sam stood there, thigh deep in the stream and stared at Dean.

Dean unbuckled his belt and let his jeans fall off his hips so he could step out of them. When he headed towards the water he looked up and met Sam's gaze.

Dean felt every single inch of his flesh that Sam's eyes moved over. A lump formed in Dean's throat and he coughed and rubbed at the back of his neck.

"C'mon," Sam said in a low voice. "It's not really that cold."

Dean's lashes fluttered and then he smiled and waded out into the stream. When he was standing beside Sam he stopped and rubbed at the goosebumps that were rippling down his chest.

"I didn't mislead you about the temperature." The smile on Sam's face softened.

"You didn't." Dead didn't really care and could see that Sam knew that. "Sammy?"

"Yeah?" Sam let his head fall back and ran his hands through his damp hair.

"I guess you don't remember when we were kids and used to go to the lake with Dad."

"Vaguely," Sam said.

"You were really young. Maybe five the last time we were there." Dean could remember almost everything about their retreats to the lake. Some of the happiest times of his life were at that tiny cabin by the lake.

"Why'd we stop goin' there?" Sam rubbed at a smear of wood stain that discoloured his chest.

Dean averted his gaze. "Creepers. There was a town close by and one night we heard them outside the cabin. I think that was when we realized that things weren't going to get better for a very long time."

"I guess," Sam agreed. "You know, I can't remember anything other than this."

"This?" Frowning Dean splashed water over his arms to try and get used to the temperature.

"No, I mean before creepers and the car and all those run-down buildings we've slept in over the years. That's what I remember."

Dean looked over at his brother and shrugged a shoulder. "You were just a baby when Mom - when we left the house." Dean would never forget what had happened that night so long ago but he rarely lingered with the memories.

"Do you still think about Mom?"

It should be the kind of question that Dean could answer easily. Of course, there were things about their mom that Dean could remember clear as day. But he wasn't sure he knew how to explain those memories to someone else or how days could pass without a reminder and then her face would be right there in Dean's mind.

Dean smiled and closed his eyes for a few heartbeats. "You know, I remember all these little moments and they just pop up. Little things. probably would just make me sound crazy."

The water splashed around Sam's legs as he waded back to the bank. "Come sit. Tell me."

Typical. Sam always liked to make Dean talk. It made sense in a way. There were only the two of them for all intents and purposes.

After a long sigh, Dean waded over to sit beside Sam. The sun was unseasonably warm and it felt good on his chest and shoulders.

"The funny thing is that I remember all these meaningless things like the color of Mom's hair when she was sitting in the sun. It was almost golden. Beautiful." Feeling a little wistful Dean turned to glance at Sam briefly.

There was a sad smile on Sam's face but he nodded for Dean to continue.

"Her perfume," Dean said when he was looking back at the rushing water. "Sometimes I swear I can smell it. The way she moved when she was in the kitchen. She used to bake all the time, you know?"

"No wonder you miss pie," Sam teased. There was still sadness etched on his face.

"Mom loved you so much," Dean said quietly. "I can sort of remember the day she brought you home. She was beaming, so full of life."

As soon as the words left Dean's mouth he was assaulted by the memory of his mother the night life left her.

"You never talk about her."

Shaking his head Dean tried to smile but knew that it looked more like a grimace of pain. "That night. The night we lost her -"

"It's okay. You don't have to," Sam said softly.

Dean could feel the burn of tears in his eyes and a dry tension in the back of his mouth. "It's just - when I talk about it? Hell even when I just think about it. I get this feeling like... like the ground has just fallen out from under me. Just falling."

Sam's hand settle on Dean's forearm and squeezed. As his thumb swept over Dean's pulse point he smiled sadly.

When Dean tried to speak again his throat was too tight and his voice broke. All those years and Dean still couldn't get it out. It was too fucking much for one person to get over.

"I'm glad we're together, Dean." Sam shifted closer and slid his fingers through Dean's. "I couldn't be - I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I didn't have you in my life."

Chuckling Dean pressed his hand on Sam's thigh. "Dude, of course. You'd go crazy. I'm the only company you have."

Sam was shaking his head and tightened his grip on Dean's hand. "Dean, I don't want to be here with you because you're the only person I know -"

"- How the hell do you know that?" Dean hadn't meant to sound angry but the words came out harsh and biting.

The tone of Dean's voice wasn't lost on Sam. He let go of Dean's hand and looked down at the water. He clasped his hands together and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Their days off from day trips had been going really well and Dean had ruined it.

Still silent, Sam kept staring at the creek; his face was hidden from Dean.

"Sam. I'm a stupid hypocrite. I know it's always me who doesn't want to meet other people. You obviously do. Maybe, you're right."

"What?" Sam snapped. "You think I want to meet other survivors because I want to replace you?"

Dean rolled his eyes dismissively but the problem was that he couldn't dismiss his brother's question. Because, yeah. Dean did wonder if Sam was looking to meet other people because he was missing something in his life. Sam was everything that Dean needed but Sam seemed to need a little bit more.

"Do you think I'm a complete idiot?"

"Is that a trick question, Sammy?" Dean forced a smirk onto his face even though he didn't feel it.

Sam's gaze hardened. "Dean, I'm serious. You act like I don't even know what's going on in my own head."

Dean shook his head but he had to look away because Sam's expression was a little too close to hurt. Dean could never bear to see his brother hurt.

"Dean, you're a great guy. I like our life here. Meeting other people would just be good for both of us. What about meeting someone who likes cars as much as you do? How long has it been since you hooked up with someone?"

That got Dean's attention because Sam knew exactly how long it had been because they were hardly ever apart.

"Small, blonde hunter with the sweet motorcycle. She was a tigress." Dean smiled.

It had been about a year back. Dean had been out going through one of those hunting and fishing stores. He'd rounded a corner and come face to face with her. She was muscular and feisty and once they'd put their weapons away it was clear to Dean that she was interested.

She was pretty and fit and her long hair was silky and Dean hadn't been with anyone in a really long time.

It turned out that the only bad thing about the hookup had been the way Sam had acted when Dean had arrived at the cabin with her following behind him on her motorcycle.

For a very uncomfortable amount of time Sam had just stared at the woman. He was so silent it was ridiculously painful and Dean wasn't used to a quiet little brother.

When Dean had suggested the woman head down the hall to his room to get more comfortable Sam had bolted from the cabin.

At the time, Dean hadn't thought too much about it. After all, denial was his friend and he wouldn't want to be near the cabin if there was the slightest possibility that he would be over-hearing Sam have sex.

Sam hadn't returned to the cabin until the roar of the motorcycle had been gone about two hours. By then Dean was a basket case.

It had been bad enough that Sam had left the safety of their fenced home. But as the minutes had ticked by and there'd been no sign of Sam, Dean had grown more and more worried.

The brothers had gotten into it about a minute after Sam had returned home. There had been yelling and a little pushing and if Dean hadn't known better he would have thought that Sam's bitterness was a direct result of jealousy.

But brothers didn't admit they got jealous of each other. The whole mess had made Dean extremely uncomfortable. There were a lot of reasons he'd been uncomfortable and, at the time, he hadn't wanted to think too much about it.

And now.

"So what, Dean? You don't ever want to hook up with anyone ever again? Or are you willing to have sex once a year because it only ever happens when you run into a female hunter -"

"I'm not having this conversation with you, Sam." Dean stood and began walking along the bank looking for his things.

"You kissed me," Sam called out to Dean's back

Dean froze and closed his eyes. No, they hadn't really talked about it. No, Dean hadn't decided what to do about it ... if anything. After a while Dean realized he had better come up with some kind of answer. "I'm sorry, Sam. I was. I was just too fucking worried. I mean, your neck and all the creepers. You gotta admit that it was a fucked up day even for us." As many times as Dean had thought about the event he'd never really come up with a solid explanation.

"Is that honestly all it was?" Sam stood his ground and all Dean could do was look at the water droplets still clinging to his hair.

Dean's heart was pounding. Sam was asking questions that were far too close to blowing apart in Dean's mind. The shrapnel from that would just fuck up everything.

It sure would have helped Dean if Sam didn't look so perfect standing there.

"I just - you know, I'm not gonna do this right now." Before Sam could answer Dean struggled further up the slippery bank and grabbed his boots.

"Dean." Sam was still standing near the stream from the sounds of it and Dean wanted to get away before the argument continued.

"We're not doing this," Dean said over his shoulder.

Dean took three steps towards the cabin before the full weight of Sam's body slammed into his back.

They crashed to the grassy bank and Dean's arms were trapped under his body. His chest ached where his boots had cushioned his fall.

Sam's arm looped around Dean's neck and he tightened the hold to the point where it was damn uncomfortable. "Sam! Fuck off."

"No," Sam yelled. He just held on tighter.

Because he could hardly breathe Dean struggled to speak. "S-Sam. Off -"

"No more lies or making shit up. Or whatever other ideas you come up with."

If Dean had known that a kiss would result in him getting his ass kicked his might have reconsidered. Who was he kidding? That wouldn't have stopped him. Nothing would have stopped him that night when he'd thought he might lose his brother.

"Get off me," Dean managed to get out. All he could feel was the weight of Sam's body. Water dripped off Sam's hair and landed cold on Dean's neck. The heat of Sam's chest was scalding against Dean's back. If he didn't get away from Sam he was going to go crazy.

"You gonna talk to me? Tell me the truth?" Sam's mouth so was close to Dean's ear that he could feel the warmth of breath.

"Yes. Fuck. Getoffme."

Sam was still for a few moments then he loosened his grip on his brother's neck and rolled off him.

As Dean tried to recover his breath he looked over to where Sam was now lying on his back. Finally, Dean rolled off his boots onto his back.

Sam turned his head slowly and looked over at his brother. "You piss me off sometimes."

"Really?" Dean deadpanned. "I hadn't noticed." Of course he pissed his brother off; they were very different from one another. It was rare, however, for Sam to take Dean own with a full on body tackle.

"I just - you and me," Sam began. "We're all we've got, Dean. If you don't tell me the truth..." Sam shook his head sadly.

The look on that oh-so-familiar face was more than a little heartbreaking. Dean gritted his teeth against the swell of emotion that threatened.

For almost his entire life Dean had tried to make his brother smile; he'd tried to do what was best for Sam rather than thinking about himself. But, if he and Sam wanted the same thing - "I wanted to."

"What?" Sam pushed damp hair away from his eyes.

"The. The kiss," Dean said quietly. He turned his head to the side but he could still feel his brother's eyes on him.

"Why now? Why after all this time?" Sam asked.

There was an easy answer to that, at least. "I - I thought you were going to die. Turn into..." Even Now that they were out of danger Dean still had trouble thinking about it.

"And I didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Become a creeper."

"No, Sam. You didn't."

"So what now?" Sam asked.

The golden question. That was the problem with last request and deathbed confessions. If you lived there were consequences.

"I don't know, Sam. I really don't know." The feel of Sam's lips still lingered in Dean's mind without invitation. He was quite certain that the memory of it would stay with him for a very long time.

When Dean finally chanced a look over at his brother Sam looked angry again.

"What?" Dean asked foolishly.

"I don't understand you. When you think you're gonna lose everything you do what you want. And when it's there for you with no threat you don't even want to entertain it," Sam said forcefully.

There was more to it for Dean. They were brothers. Because of the way he grew up Sam might not consider that to be a problem. Unfortunately, it mattered a great deal to Dean.

Sam was his little brother.

"What is it?" Sam asked. When Dean remained silent Sam rolled towards his brother and slid his arm across Dean's chest. He settled there, half lying on Dean. "Tell me."


	4. Chapter 4

  
  
  
There were a lot of things that Dean could tell Sam but the truth wasn't one of them. There was no way he wanted Sam to know how screwed up things had become. At least, Dean was screwed up, Sam was just in the dark about a lot of social mores.  
  
"God, Dean. Is this about Dad being gone? Is it that you feel like you're supposed to be the one I look up to? 'Cause that doesn't matter -"  
  
"Sam, don't." The last thing Dean needed was Sam trying to convince him that a relationship between them was a  _good_  thing.  
  
Sam propped himself up so he could look down into Dean's eyes. "So. You have some kind of problem you won't tell me about that means I have no input in...in this." For emphasis Sam pressed his palm to Dean's back.  
  
"What do you want from me?" Dean's voice was louder than he'd intended but Sam didn't even flinch.  
  
Just when the silence was about to get a little uncomfortable Sam took a deep breath and then sighed. "Dean, I want  _you_."  
  
Dean was lost somewhere between the smooth, low timbre of Sam's voice and the way his nails were cutting into Dean's back.  
  
"I -" That was as far as Dean got. He'd never been able to lie to his brother so he couldn't just tell Sam that he didn't want him even if that would be the best solution. Frustrated, Dean rolled away onto his back and shoved at his boots in annoyance.  
  
A look of determination settled on Sam's face. His bottom lip quivered slightly and Dean could see that his eyes were welling with tears.  
  
"Tell me right now," Sam began. "If you tell me now that you  _don't_  want this - want  _more_  - if you say it I won't mention it again."  
  
Sam always gave Dean a way out. Ever since they'd lost their father Sam had always been ready with an excuse for Dean. "You're doing your best." "No one told you how to do this." "It's okay if you can't, Dean."  
  
And now Sam was handing his older brother a quick and clean way to end all the conflict in his mind. All he had to do was lie and say that he didn't want Sam.  
  
Except he'd never been able to lie convincingly to Sam.  
  
And Dean had always been a lot more selfish than his little brother liked to believe.  
  
Dean's hand whipped out from his side and he grabbed Sam's wrist. He stared into Sam's gold-rimmed eyes and could feel his brother trembling.  
  
"Dean. I -"  
  
Dean rolled quickly and kicking his leg up he slid across Sam's body and settled on his hips. Sam didn't resist and Dean knew full well that for every move Dean had he'd taught his brother a counter.  
  
Dean moved quickly and captured both of Sam's hands and pinned them to the ground.  
  
They were both panting. Dean could feel each puff of warm breath on his lips and a burning sensation skipped down Dean's spine.  
  
A frown flitted across Sam's face and he opened his mouth then closed it again quickly.  
  
Dean raised an eyebrow and ran his tongue over his bottom lip.  
  
It sounded like Sam's breath caught in his throat and Dean shifted lower.  
  
Sam bit down on his bottom lip and closed his eyes as a deep flush spread up his neck. Knowing that  _he_  made Sam look so...turned on...made Dean's heart thump a little faster.  
  
There would be no going back. And Dean had never liked not having a back-up plan.  
  
Almost as though he could sense Dean's hesitance returning Sam shifted his hips from side to side.  
  
Heat raged through Dean's veins as he felt the hard bulge in Sam's boxers.  
  
It just wasn't fair.  
  
Dean fell on Sam's mouth like he was starving for it. Sam's teeth clicked against Dean's then something just worked.  
  
Their mouths moved together as though they fit together perfectly.  
  
When Sam's tongue teased forward, Dean nearly lost his mind. He hadn't kissed anyone in a while but he'd  _never_  kissed anyone like Sam.  
  
It was hot, wet, slick and  _Jesus_ , the way Sam was moving beneath Dean sent all the blood in his body straight to his cock.  
  
Dean caught Sam's bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard enough to make Sam moan.  
  
That moan was one of the hottest things that Dean had ever heard. "Sam...I-"  
  
"If you stop now. So help me, I will  _punch_  you," Sam growled.  
  
For some reason Dean felt laughter welling up. He sucked in a breath then chuckled softly.  
  
"Jerk," Sam murmured.  
  
"Let's go inside."  
  
Dean let go of Sam and climbed off him to stand. After a little smirk he held out his hand to haul his brother to his feet.  
  
He looked up at Sam, eyes moving from reddened lips to hazel eyes. He had no idea when Sam had become the man that was standing in front of him. There was no sign of his innocent little brother anymore. What was left of the world did that to people.  
  
"Hey," Sam said softly. His fingers found their way to Dean's hip.  
  
Dean smiled wryly.  
  
"Don't get all lost in that mess of thoughts in your head."  
  
The squeeze of Sam's fingers on his hip made Dean suck in a quick breath.  
  
Sam grabbed Dean's hand and tugged. "C'mon."  
  
When Sam stepped back Dean moved with him. For a while they moved slowly, their fingers hooked together loosely.  
  
A smile crept onto Sam's face as they got closer to the porch. He tugged on Dean's hand once more and then turned to walk up the stairs.  
  
Heart still pounding Dean tried to focus on the muscles that rippled across Sam's strong back. Now that he wasn't trying to avoid looking he was so hungry for it he couldn't stop.  
  
Dean tripped on the top step and bumped into Sam's back. The door opened and they stumbled into the dark warmth of the cabin.  
  
The moment the door slammed shut Sam spun and crushed his mouth against Dean's.  
  
The door came up suddenly behind Dean and he grunted as the breath shot out of his mouth.  
  
Sam took Dean's open mouth as an invitation and his tongue pushed past his brother's lips.  
  
If Dean made a sound that resembled a whimper it was entirely beyond his control. Sam obviously didn't care because he was sucking on Dean's bottom lip, nipping at him then sliding his tongue over Dean's tingling lips.  
  
Sam's big hands started at Dean's shoulders and worked their way down as the brothers kissed.  
  
Every muscle in Dean's body had gone weak and he finally managed to move his hands to Sam's chest.  
  
 _God_. Sam's body was ripped. Dean had looked at his brother's body so many times and wondered what all that tanned flesh would feel like under his hands.[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/twoboys2love/66949000/9170/9170_original.jpg)  
  
Now, he knew. It was hot and a little terrifying and Dean could feel his hands trembling as they ghosted over Sam's hot skin.  
  
Sam moaned impatiently and his lips slid down to map the hard line of Dean's jaw.  
  
" _Jesus_ ," Dean wheezed. Sam's mouth was insane. Dean _knew_  they'd be having a talk about where Sam learned how to do  _that thing_  he was doing with his tongue. Books were  _not_  an acceptable explanation.  
  
Dean's knees gave out and he nearly went down when Sam began sucking and biting on the side of his neck. It felt a little like Dean was going to ignite and be left a pile of bone and ash.  
  
 _Nothing_  had ever made Dean want someone more than he wanted Sam.  
  
They seemed to agree without words to move away from the door. Clumsily they made their way across the living room before bumping into a wall.  
  
Sam grunted and his mouth moved to Dean's collarbone.  
  
Somehow, Dean managed to move his hand and tangled his fingers in Sam's stupid long hair. He yanked his brother's head up so he could  _finally_  taste his mouth again.  
  
Dean shoved Sam roughly and they fell against the opposite wall and knocked an old painting down.  
  
Laughing low and soft, Sam kept moving his mouth against Dean's. It seemed like he couldn't get enough and Dean didn't mind that  _at_  all.  
  
With luck and a couple more collisions they made it to Dean's bedroom - Sam's choice - and they fell away from one another onto the firm mattress.  
  
They lay there panting for a while, fingers twined together between their bodies.  
  
Dean's mind was spinning. He was so hard his balls felt like they were going to explode. It was all  _Sam_  and Dean already knew that he'd never get enough.  _Never._  
  
When he could get his muscles to work Dean sat up and slid to the edge of the bed. He swayed slightly as he stared down at his brother.  
  
 _No going back._  Dean hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slid them down. The feel of the material dragging over his swollen cock was almost torture. Dean was pretty sure Sam was trying not to smile.  
  
"You next, Sammy," Dean said gruffly.  
  
Sam bit down on his bottom lip and his hips arched up off the bed. "Dean."  
  
Dean leaned over and pulled Sam's damp boxers down slowly. When the material slid over Sam's cock Dean held his breath.  
  
Sam's cock was thick, hard and the head glistened wetly. Dean nearly tore his brother's boxers in his haste to get them the rest of the way off.  
  
He launched himself back onto the bed and pressed up against all the flesh and muscle of his brother's body. He slid his hand over the sharp rise of Sam's hipbone until his fingers only just brushed Sam's cock.  
  
He couldn't tear his eyes away from the pleasure written all over Sam's face.  
  
"Dean," Sam whispered. His lips were swollen, his dark lashes resting on his cheeks. As Dean's fingers found their way to curve around the weight of Sam's girth they both moaned.  
  
Then, somehow, their mouths were together again. The crushing of their mouths was so intense that Dean could feel the _pleasure_  pain of it tearing through him.  
  
He slid his fingers up the length of Sam's hardness then slowly dragged it back down.  
  
Sam's entire body shuddered and he arched his back to get closer...to get more.  
  
Nails cut into Dean's back but he didn't care. He could kiss Sam for  _years_  and never tire of the way it made him feel. His body was afire with a longing that was burning away the world around them.  
  
Dean found a rhythm for the way his hand moved over Sam's flesh but every few heartbeats he would falter.  
  
 _God_  Sam was turning Dean inside out. Dean pressed his hips forward to rub his aching flesh hard against his brother's hip.  
  
Sam murmured something but Dean wasn't even sure it was actual words. It wasn't like he'd be able to process it anyway.  
  
Their mouths continued to move together, slick and rough and more than a little desperate. Dean wondered if they both thought the same thing. Maybe this would be the only time, make the most of it.  
  
A guttural sound tore out of Sam's throat and Dean's thoughts shattered and blew away.  
  
He rolled his hips forward again and again. There was no way Dean could stop moving; his cock was so swollen it was painful.  
  
And Sam. Sam's skin was covered in sweat; it glistened and if Dean weren't so intent on getting to his peak he could spend half the fucking day running his hands over all that flesh.  
  
Sam's hand caught the back of Dean's neck and held on tightly. His eyes were wide open and there was a plea in them. Sam wanted release and the fact that he wanted it from Dean was about the most amazing thing in the world to Dean.  
  
"Dean.  _God_. Faster." Sam's words were cut off by a moan when Dean's fingers squeezed around the base of his brother's cock before sliding back up again quickly. He could tell by the way that Sam's body was arching up, all his muscles tensing, he was going to come.  
  
Circling his hips Dean got enough friction that he could feel the build up of his own orgasm deep inside of him.  
  
They found a crazy give and take, back and forth. Dean's hand worked his brother's taut flesh as Sam pulled his hand forward to cup his brother's cheek.  
  
As their gazes locked the intensity of it shot through Dean like a lit fuse. No one had ever looked at him the way Sam was looking at him. It was all happening too fast. Their bodies writhed and twisted, limbs tangled and Dean knew he couldn't take it anymore.  
  
Heat welled up in Dean's balls and he thrust his hips forward  _hard_. The moment his aching flesh was caught against Sam's hip Dean was drowned in pleasure.  
  
When Sam's orgasm washed over him he stopped breathing. Come pulsed from Sam's cock and splattered against his abs and chest.  
  
Dean was only half aware of what he was seeing. His own body was twitching and jolting as he came. The warmth of his release spread against Dean's skin. They were lost together for a while; their bodies twitched and they finally started breathing again.  
  
When Dean regained a little control over his body he slid his arm over Sam's chest and pulled him as close as he could.  
  
Sam was trembling and turned into the circle of his brother's arms He nestled in close, nose pressed to the crook of Dean's shoulder.  
  
Dean's hand cupped the back of Sam's skull; he held his brother there, close and hot and safe.  
  
A quiet sound of pleasure left Sam's lips and vibrated against Dean's shoulder.  
  
If Dean thought for too long about the fact that he'd just-  _Jesus_. "I'm going to Hell."  
  
"What?" Sam moved back slightly. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his cheeks ruddy and there was a shadow of stubble along his jaw.  
  
Dean laughed mirthlessly. "I said, I'm going to hell."  
  
"Why? 'Cause you just about killed me with...your hot?" Sam grinned happily.  
  
It was  _just_  like Dean to immediately think the worst. Sometimes, he was even tired of himself. "You're my brother," Dean said softly.  
  
"So?" Sam answered immediately. He was grinning at his brother, looking about as happy as Dean had ever seen him.  
  
 _So._  
  
That was Sam's answer. And why wouldn't it be? It wasn't like they had ever had cause to sit down and talk about there being certain things that brothers didn't do together.  
  
Frowning slightly Sam pressed a kiss to Dean's abused bottom lip. "It was awesome."  
  
Dean closed his eyes and pressed his lips together tightly.  
  
"Dean?"  
  
When he heard worry in Sam's' voice Dean opened his eyes and smiled.  _Take care of your brother._  
  
"Sam. That was-"  
  
"-awesome."  
  
Dean nodded and tried to relax in the warm sensations rippling through his body. He knew that one of the  _first_  things out of his mouth should have been that what they'd done was wrong.  
  
But. Why should he tear the carpet out from under them? Why should he argue with Sam?  
  
Staring into Sam's eyes all that Dean could think about was pleasing his brother and making everything alright for him. That was kind of what Dean's life had always been about.  
  
"Are you happy, Sam?"  
  
The expression on Sam's face became more gentle, the sweet Sammy that Dean had always known.  
  
"I'm  _very_  happy, Dean." He looked a little surprised, as though he expected it to be plain as day.  
  
"Then that's all that matters, Sam."  
  
Smiling Sam propped himself up on his elbows and pressed his lips to his brother's.  
  
And Dean, for the moment, felt as though he might have finally made a good decision.  
  


  
The  _newness_  between them became part of their every day almost too quickly. The only time there was even a moment of awkwardness was the very first night.  
  
Dean had found himself standing in between the doors to their bedrooms. He was  _still_  standing there unsure of of what to do when Sam shuffled past him yawning.  
  
Sam crossed the hall in a clumsy swerve and went into his bedroom. Dean was thankful that someone could still act normally.  
  
Just as Dean was about to head into his own room Sam emerged again while pulling his shirt off over his head. He bumped into Dean before his eyes appeared from under the material.  
  
"Sorry," Sam mumbled. "Your bed is bigger." Without another word Sam had headed into Dean's room.  
  
And that was how things had become the new normal. Just like that Dean was heading to bed every night to find his brother already there. And Sam ceased his nocturnal wanderings almost immediately.  
  
Each night when Dean went to bed he felt like he was having some fantastic dream. Every morning he was convinced that he would open his eyes and Sam would be gone. But Sam was there every time and everything seemed fine.  
  
There were no excuses for anything to stop so nothing stopped.  
  
One morning they headed back out to check out an area they'd never been to. It was an eight hour drive so the boys had decided they were going to spend the night in the car. An overnight meant a more thorough look around.  
  
They'd pulled off the road at the top of a hill because Sam had been bitching for miles about being hungry.  
  
"What we got?" Sam groaned when he climbed out of the car. He'd also been complaining about how shitty it was to be all cramped up in the car for hours.  
  
"I made a little picnic for your sweet and sensitive ass," Dean teased.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and hopped up onto the trunk.  
  
Dean picked up the canvas bag he'd put the food in and headed around to sit by his brother. "Knock yourself out, Sam."  
  
Like lightning, Sam was in the box rooting around. He held up an unopened package of cookies. "You think these will still be good?"  
  
"There's enough sugar in them; they'd probably survive the apocalypse."  
  
Sam's laughter made Dean's cheeks heat up. He'd always liked the sound of it; once things had changed between them it had meant even more.  
  
The crinkling of the wrapper on the cookies seemed too loud and Dean couldn't help the way his eyes scanned the land around them. No matter what, they always had to be on their guard.  
  
"Not too stale," Sam mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs. "Just a little dry."  
  
Without missing a beat, Dean handed his brother his water bottle.  
  
While Sam was trying to wash down the cookie Dean opened up a can of tuna.  
  
"Tuna!" Sam thumped his fist into Dean's shoulder. "You didn't tell me there was tuna."  
  
They had a fair amount of canned food stored up but some was a little more rare. Tuna was one of the things they didn't have very often.  
  
"You didn't ask. You had your snout in the box looking for cookies." Dean grinned and shoved a forkful of fish into his mouth. "Mmmm."  
  
"Gimme some."  
  
Dean shook his head.  
  
"Dean, c'mon. Quit screwin' around."  
  
"What's in it for me?" Dean scooped up another forkful of tuna and held it up in front of his mouth for a few seconds.  
  
"Seriously?" Sam didn't look all that surprised that Dean wanted to make him suffer a little.  
  
"Mmmhmm." Dean put the tuna into his mouth and chewed slowly to ensure that Sam knew how good it tasted.  
  
"I'll give you a blowjob tonight," Sam said without hesitation.  
  
The tuna lodged in Dean's throat and he started coughing. His entire body shook as he tried to dislodge the fish.  
  
There was a smirk on Sam's face that was about a mile wide. He always liked to get the upper hand on Dean and his amusement was proof.  
  
Sex.  _That_  was always the game changer. So. Yeah. The first time they'd been together had set the precedent. Two weeks in and Dean hadn't crossed any more lines.  
  
 _Not_  that he didn't want to. Holy  _Hell_  did Dean want to cross lines all over the damned place. But ... Sam had seemed fine _right_  where they were at.  
  
Dean couldn't see a thing through his watery eyes and he wiped at them as he continued to cough. At least he could breathe, no thanks to his brother dropping a bomb like dick sucking.  
  
Dean managed to swallow and looked over at his brother. " _What_  did you say?"  
  
"You heard me," Sam said. Looking more than a little smug he reached into the bag and pulled out some carrots.  
  
"I give you-" Dean held up his hand as he coughed once more then tried again. "I give you the rest of my tuna and you- you-"  
  
" _I_  give  _you_  a blowjob. Tonight." Sam bit into a carrot and the snap of it made Dean jump.  
  
There was no point in Dean even pretending he wasn't absolutely on board with Sam's mouth being  _anywhere_  on his body. It was probably better if Dean didn't spend too much time thinking about it. His jeans were already feeling pulled tight at the crotch.  
  
Dean licked his lips once. He swallowed. Then he held out the tin toward his brother.  
  
As he took the tuna, Sam seemed to let his fingers linger on Dean's. Then he just grinned and took his prize. By the time Dean let his hand drop Sam was already chewing happily.  
  
Tuna be damned; Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest. They were spending the night in the car and  _what_  a fantasy would unfold..  
  
Dean was quite sure that his brain was going to completely misfire. He closed his eyes for a while and took a few deep breaths. It didn't do much to slow his heartbeat but he felt a little more like he wasn't about to implode or pass out, both of which would be really embarrassing. Sam would never let him live something like that down.  
  
"You good, Dean?"  
  
Blinking a few times Dean stared over at his brother silently.  
  
"You look a little tense." Still chewing Sam stuck the fork back in the tuna so his hand was free to trail down Dean's temple, cheek, to his jaw. "You're a little sweaty. You got a fever?"  
  
"Fuck off," Dean chided. But his lips curled into a smile. He was stuck on the whole  _Sam's mouth_  thing.  
  
"So, tonight then." Sam ate a few more spoonfuls of tuna while staring off into the distance.  
  
"Yeah," Dean answered quietly. He hopped off the trunk and headed around to the driver's side door. "Get your ass movin'. We got a lot of ground to cover."  
  
There was a kind of hum in Dean's chest; a warmth was sitting there over his heart. Dean didn't mind at all.  
  


  
Dean's fingers gripped the frame of the car as he tried to keep himself sitting up. As long as he was sitting up he could see Sam's lips sliding up and down his glistening cock.  
  
 _God._  Dean had managed a few blowjobs in his time - always rushed, sure - but they were being wiped out of his mind by the talent of his brother's mouth.  
  
Sam's teeth grazed over the sensitive head of Dean's cock. His hips jolted up trying to get back to the wet heat of his brother's mouth.  
  
Sweat made Dean lose his grip on the car frame. He swore and shifted to grab a fistfull of Sam's hair.  
  
When Sam moaned the sensation nearly blew Dean's mind. And then Dean's cock was sliding painfully slowly into Sam's mouth again and everything went a little blurry.  
  
Teeth, the press of Sam's tongue, then the ripple of Sam's muscles as he swallowed. Dean's lashes fluttered then his eyes finally closed. His fingers tightened in his brother's hair to hold him there.  _Right_  there.  
  
It felt like Sam's tongue was everywhere at once. All the flesh on Dean's aching cock was tingling. His balls were so swollen they were throbbing. It was all Sam's fault. He'd been working Dean's cock for what felt like hours.  
  
Not that Dean was complaining.  
  
Just as Dean managed to thrust his hips forward and send his cock deeper into Sam's throat his brother's fingers found Dean's balls.  
  
Dean's free hand smacked into the back of the car seat. "Fuck!"  
  
He could feel Sam's body shake slightly as he chuckled. And all the while Sam's fingers squeezed Dean's balls.  
  
Pleasure swept over Dean from head to toe and he arched his back to try and feel  _more_. Because Sam -  _Jesus_  - he was only just figuring out that there could never be enough Sam.  
  
The whole car smelled like sweat and sex. Dean let his head fall back as Sam's lips moved down his cock again.  
  
Dean's boot thumped down onto the floor and he felt Sam shifting on the seat. If his brain wasn't being sucked out of his cock he might have wondered  _how_  the hell they'd managed to fit in the back seat.  
  
Sam's tongue circled the head of Dean's cock . It was insane the way Sam was lapping and sucking and driving Dean absolutely insane.  
  
But good insane.  
  
"Sam, it's-" Dean had no idea what he was trying to say because he could feel his balls drawing up close to the burn of his body.  
  
As Sam drew back to suck hard on the head of Dean's cock, he dug his nails into Dean's hips.  
  
It was too much.  
  
Dean's orgasm felt like it came from the top of his spine. His back arched and he felt the burn of release tripping down his back bones and finally just slamming into his gut.  
  
The first pulse of Dean's cock made him throw his head back and let out a half cry/ half moan.  
  
Dean could  _feel_  Sam swallowing his come. He could  _feel_  the way Sam's tongue was sweeping around his aching flesh.  
  
Dean's fingers loosened their hold on Sam's hair. He smoothed it back from his brother's flushed cheek.  
  
As the pleasure began to ebb Sam finally pulled off his brother's cock. His head fell to Dean's stomach and he lay there panting while Dean stroked his hair with a trembling hand.  
  
They were silent for a while then Sam groaned. Dean tried to move over so his brother could get into a more comfortable position.  
  
The car rocked back and forth as Sam climbed around on the seat. At one point in managed to only just miss kneeling on his brother's nuts.  
  
For some reason, Sam's struggle amused Dean and he chuckled darkly. If he'd had more energy he would have laughed more heartily but he was still having trouble making his body work the way it was supposed to.  
  
"Oh, you laugh now," Sam muttered. He finally managed to get his ass settled on the back seat.  
  
"Yup." Dean smiled at his little brother and then turned slightly so he could get a better look at Sam's face.  
  
"What?" For once Sam looked a little shy, maybe even a little nervous.  
  
"That was amazing," Dean said quite seriously.  
  
For a few moments Sam's eyes were wide then he blinked slowly and looked down. His long hair fell forward and his his face from view.  
  
Reaching out Dean moved his brother's hair back and tucked it behind his ear.  
  
There was a sheepish look on Sam's face but he made eye contact and held it. "I liked it," he said. "Doing that."  
  
Dean's smile warmed and he slid his hand around to the nape of Sam's neck. "I'm glad we're together, Sam. There's no one I'd rather be left with in this crazy world."  
  
Sam nodded and his smile became a little more lopsided. "I know. But I bet there's other people like us."  
  
That again. Two brothers - Dean was pretty damn sure there weren't a lot of people who wouldn't even understand their situation let alone people who were living it.  
  
"C'mon, Sammy. You know I'm more than enough for ya." Dean tried for a warm smile but he knew it probably looked a little forced.  
  
More than ever Dean was certain that he didn't want other people poking around in their lives.  
  
 _Brothers._  
  
Dean's thoughts were interrupted by his brother sighing. "You good, Sam?"  
  
A frown appeared briefly on Sam's face and then it was gone. A smile replaced it and Sam shrugged then nodded. "Yeah. Great."  
  
The disappointment on Sam's face might have been fleeting but Dean rarely missed anything when it came to his brother. It was complicated though. No one would accept the bond between them. There was no way that people would tolerate a sexual relationship between siblings. Just the thought of that kind of discussion made Dean feel a little ill.  
  
"Dean?"  
  
"Yeah." Dean leaned back against the seat.  
  
"If you feel bad, you could...you know." Sam shrugged.  
  
It took a few moments for Dean to catch up. "You got a problem there, Sammy?"  
  
Sam licked his lips as he let his legs fall apart. He slid his palm down the front of his jeans and squeezed the bulge that was still present. "I could take care of it myself."  
  
"Fuck, no." Dean grabbed a handful of Sam's shirt and yanked him forward into a kiss.  
  


  
The stench in the garage was sickening and Dean had to turn his face into his collar for a few breaths or risk puking up his breakfast.  
  
Sam turned to look towards one of the mechanic's bays. He cocked his head to the side as though he were listening intently.  
  
They were out on one of their overnight trips again and had come across a garage that had looked as though it was still locked up. As soon as Dean had picked the lock and opened the door they could tell by the smell that there were creepers around.  
  
If it weren't for the fact that Dean could see some tools in the closest mechanic’s chest he probably would have backed them out. But the car needed to be kept in pristine condition and there was plenty in the garage to help with that.  
  
Sam glanced over his shoulder and nodded towards the door off to the right. When Dean nodded in return they both headed towards the right side of the garage.  
  
Dean held his machete tightly even though his arm hung at his side.  
  
When Sam began to approach the closed door he raised the baseball bat he was holding. Dean had seen his brother swing that bat and knew that it wouldn't be good to be on the receiving end of it.  
  
When he reached the door Sam leaned against it and peered through the window at the top. Without looking back at Dean he raised four fingers.  
  
Dean gritted his teeth. He really hadn't wanted to have an encounter with anything other than a socket wrench or some spark plugs. Four creepers was nothing they hadn't handled before but Dean had been hesitant about unnecessary engagement since Sam's  _incident_.  
  
Facing the open area behind them Dean stepped back until he was beside his brother. They switched positions so Dean could look through the small window.  
  
Of course, Sam was right. There were four creepers. The room looked like it was a small office and not another work area.  
  
Two of the creepers were sort of lodged behind an old wooden desk. A large and particularly rotten-looking creeper was pawing clumsily at the only window to the outside.  
  
The window creeper was wearing what looked like the shredded remains of a set of mechanic's coveralls. Not a good sign regarding the survival of anyone who had worked at the garage.  
  
Dean grabbed the door handle and twisted it slowly until he heard it click.  
  
One of the creepers let out a mucousy cry but it didn't turn towards the door.  
  
The fourth creeper was sitting against the wall. Its rotten legs were mangled as though they'd gone through a meat grinder and Dean couldn't help frowning. "Gross," he mouthed silently at his brother but Sam just rolled his eyes.  
  
Dean held up three fingers and counted down. On one Dean kicked at the door. As it swung open the brothers moved into the room smoothly. Sam headed towards the creeper at the window; Dean the two caged behind the desk.  
  
The bat in Sam's hands swung fast and on target. The creeper's head caved in under the force of the blow and it fell to the ground, its eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as its putrefied brain dribbled down its face.  
  
Dean's machete chopped through the first creeper's neck and the head thunked heavily onto the desk before rolling across it and dropping onto the dirty floor. The second creeper was cut down right behind it.  
  
The remaining creeper on the floor was screaming hoarsely; its arms were flailing towards Sam's legs but it wasn't able to move any closer.  
  
For some reason Sam was just standing there, bat in hand, watching the writhing mess of decaying flesh.  
  
"Sammy?" Dean strode over to his brother and looked up at him. "You okay?"  
  
"This one - he was a mechanic."  
  
Dean nodded.  
  
"How did it happen so - so fast? They were just working and then they were ... this? It doesn't make sense." The creeper at their feet waved its arms around with renewed vigour as Sam spoke.  
  
"Still airborne? They were still in here working when they got attacked? I don't know, Sam. I don't get the science behind all this." It wasn't just that Dean wasn't a  _science_  type of guy, but information was scarce. After the initial outbreak it had become more and more difficult to get information about the spread of the contagion.  
  
"Maybe we should listen to the radio sometimes," Dean said. He shrugged and looked down at the creeper.  
  
"Maybe." Sam took a deep breath that seemed a little shaky. "I wonder if he had a family. I mean, kids...cousins."  
  
"Okay, Sam. That's enough." Dean stepped in front of his brother and swung the machete in a wide arc. The blade sliced clean through the neck of the creeper and its still chewing head rolled down its body.  
  
The head came to a stop at the toe of Dean's boot and he stepped back. "Sam? We need to get what we came for and get outta here."  
  
Dean headed towards the door but when he glanced back over his shoulder Sam was still standing near the creeper's body.  
  
"Sam! move your ass!"  
  
Sam jerked slightly and he blinked a few times before turning to face Dean.  
  
"Grab the toolbox near the front and the spark plugs I showed you. Yeah?" Dean waited until Sam nodded and then headed back through the door to search for some fan belts and anything else that might work for the Impala.  
  
He could hear Sam moving around but that didn't stop Dean from worrying. Sam was acting strange. Between them they'd probably killed hundreds of creepers. Killed wasn't even the right word. Those damned things weren't alive. They were rotting husks.  
  
Maybe the mechanic’s coveralls had struck a chord with Sam but it wasn't like his little brother to lose his grip.  
  
Dean pulled a few fan belts down off the wall and checked the sizes. He hooked two belts over the pistol holstered on his belt before moving on. He opened a couple of toolboxes and stopped when he found a small photograph. There was a man in the photo wearing a mechanic's coverall. The man was with two children: a little boy and a little girl with long blonde hair. Maybe it was the family that Sam had wondered about.  
  
For some reason, Dean slipped the photo into his jacket pocket before moving further down the bench.  
  
He picked up a socket set and headed over to where Sam was waiting by the front door. "Done?"  
  
Sam nodded and held up his loot.  
  
After a quick look through the window in the door Dean opened it and they headed back to the car.  
  
They loaded everything into the trunk and climbed into the car. That was the first time Dean let his guard down. The Impala was the only safe place away from the cabin. The sound of the doors slamming always made Dean take a deep breath.  
  
They were quiet for a while. Both of them looked around the car; the constant vigil continued.  
  
After a few minutes of silence Dean looked over at his brother. Sam's hair was tousled, his cheeks a little pink. Dean studied his brother's face for a while but couldn't guess his expression. "Sam? What was goin' on in your head back there?"  
  
Sam looked down and shifted around a little. "I don't know. Just curious. Doesn't hurt to think about where people come from."  
  
"They're not people anymore, Sam. You know that." Dean frowned and reached out for Sam's hand only to have his brother pull away.  
  
"Dean, they're people. That guy was probably someone's dad or husband or something. What if those people are still alive somewhere and wondering where he is?"  
  
As Sam spoke Dean found himself staring with wide eyes. He wasn't sure where Sam was going with the whole  _family of creepers_  discussion but Dean didn't like it.  
  
"Back it up, Sam. That guy had been infected for a long fucking time.  _If_  he had a family they would have given up long ago."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"What? You think if they were around they wouldn't have looked here for him?" Dean gestured towards the garage.  
  
"Maybe they aren't around. Maybe he was going to meet them somewhere after he fixed up the car." There was something frantic about the way Sam looked. It seemed important to him that there was someone alive somewhere waiting for the mechanic.  
  
"Sam! Stop this. It's impossible to know who's alive out there.  _Jesus._  it's not like we even see that many people and we cover a lot of ground."  
  
"Yeah, Dean. I know we don't see other people." Sam had gone from sounding frantic to pissed off and Dean was running out of patience.  
  
"This is. This is  _stupid_." Dean started the car and the bass roar of it was comforting.  
  
"I want to go and meet other people," Sam said firmly.  
  
"I'm not talking about this now," Dean answered.  
  
"What are you so afraid of?" Sam swept his hair back off his face and grabbed a handful of it in frustration.  
  
Curling his fingers over the steering wheel slowly Dean took a moment to take a deep breath before answering. "I'm not _scared_  of anything, Sam. I'm just trying to keep us alive."  
  
"And together."  
  
Confused, Dean frowned and looked over at Sam. "Of course, together. I've always watched out for you and I always will."  
  
"It's because you don't trust me," Sam said.  
  
Dean revved the engine then put the car in drive. "Sam? That's enough. I don't want to hear another word about it."  
  
When Dean's foot hit the gas the engine roared and the tires threw gravel up in two arcs behind them. When Sam fell silent Dean reached down and turned the stereo on louder than usual.  
  
Speeding down the highway had the desired effect. Sam was silent as his brother drove. The only problem was that there was no way to stop the thoughts that were tearing up Dean's mind.  
  
Sam wasn't going to give up on his idea of meeting other people. Dean had always known that Sam was a little more hopeful than he was. Dean chose to believe that most of the other survivors were probably the kind of people that Dean wouldn't want to meet.  
  
He wasn't quite sure how long they'd been driving before Sam turned to look at him. It was a bit unnerving the way that Sam could stare for so long without blinking. Dean didn't need to look to know what those multi-colored eyes would look like. "What?"  
  
"There was a poster at the garage, you know," Sam said without hesitation. It was like he'd been waiting for Dean to get unsettled by the gaze.  
  
"Great. You looking for decorating tips or something?" Dean kept his gaze on the road; he was always safer that way when it came to Sam.  
  
"I've seen it before. They're up at meeting places. They pick up people every full moon at the garage," Sam said evenly.  
  
"Well, they're clearly not very good at choosing safe locations, are they?" Dean asked. "Or maybe they're just shitty at getting rid of creepers."  
  
"You done?"  
  
For effect, Dean thought about it for a few moments then nodded once.  
  
"They will be there at two on the next full moon, like the one that's at the warehouse. That's only two weeks away. Dean we could go and meet some people."  
  
"No," Dean said immediately. He wasn't going to have the argument again.  
  
"Look, Dean. I don't need to ask you for permission. I don't need a guardian. Those days are over." Sam reached out for Dean's arm but Dean shrugged off the touch.  
  
"Sam, it's too dangerous. So much shit could go wrong. They could be just luring people in-"  
  
"For what?" Sam interjected.  
  
"To... to build their ranks, or worse," Dean answered.  
  
"Worse?" Sam threw his hands up and shook his head. "You have been hunting so long that you think there's only bad out there. But there has to be-"  
  
"Why, Sam?  _Why_  does there have to be any good out there? Have you  _seen_  what we deal with?" Dean was actually getting pretty pissed off and he really didn't want to have to justify his view.  
  
"What about the good people you've met? I'm pretty sure that I remember a story about a guy you-"  
  
"Do  _not_  go there, Sam. That was a long time ago. There are a lot less people around these days and everyone is looking out for themselves." Dean risked a glance over at his brother to find Sam staring with his mouth open in surprise.  
  
"Dean, you're crazy. We're not like that. Why can't there be other people like us?" Sam sighed and turned away.  
  
Dean had to force himself to loosen his grip on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white and his joints aching.  
  
"Sam, we have to be careful. What we have, our life...it's good. The cabin is a great place and people would kill to get that. You understand that, right?"  
  
"Of course I do," Sam answered quickly. "I'm not an idiot. Our safety is important. The cabin is a stronghold, I get that. But Dean, there's room in our lives for other people."  
  
Dean shook his head and stayed silent. There was really nothing he could say that was going to change Sam's mind. That was becoming very clear.  
  
Sam shifted closer on the seat as they pulled onto the track to the cabin. He reached out and rested a hand on his brother's thigh.  
  
"Dean? I love you. You're my brother. But you remember another life.  _You_  remember other people. I know that you and Dad used to meet up with other people." Sam squeezed Dean's thigh.  
  
There was no way Dean could speak. All that was going through his mind was the fact that Sam cared for him. Dean had never had any reason to doubt that and he tried to focus on it.  
  
 _But._  
  
If they met other people what would happen if someone found out about their relationship? It could bring all kinds of crazy raining down on them. Worse than the wrath of other people, Sam might realize what he was doing was wrong.  
  
"Dean?"  
  
Closing his eyes to sweep his thoughts away Dean took a deep breath before turning to look at Sam. He'd never seen Sam look quite so serious about anything before.  
  
"What, Sam?" Dean covered Sam's hand with his own.  
  
"You've had other people around. I just want to have that. I'm not talking about us moving out of the cabin or anything. I just want to know someone."  
  
What Dean wanted to say was that Sam knew him. Sam knew  _him_  better than anyone else could.  
  
"Just. Sam, let me ... just give me a little time to digest it all?" Dean had always struggled when it came to saying  _no_  to his brother. It was just a matter of time before he got what he wanted. In many ways, Dean felt Sam was owed anything he wanted.  
  
Nodding, Sam leaned closer. He pressed his lips to the corner of Dean's mouth. "Thank you."  
  
The words made Sam's lips brush Dean's skin so lightly he shivered.  
  
Moving quickly, Dean swivelled on the car seat and grabbed a handful of Sam's hair. He held on tightly, held Sam so close to him their lips were almost touching.  
  
"Sam.  _Nothing_  can happen to you.  _Nothing_. I wouldn't-" Dean couldn't even finish the thought because the pain of it was too much.  
  
Wisely, Sam just nodded slightly. He couldn't move very much the way Dean had hold of his hair but he pressed forward so their lips met.  
  
Dean felt the familiar, yet still surprising, burst of heat that poured into his veins. He grabbed blindly at Sam's jacket and tugged him into his arms then deepened the kiss.  
  
It felt like Sam just melted against him and Dean's heart thundered. He wanted Sam.  
  
One of Sam's hands pushed under the hem of Dean's shirt; cool fingers ran over the dusting of hair above Dean's belt.  
  
The touch made Dean suck in a deep breath then he slid his tongue forward to push into Sam's mouth. The heat of it made Dean tremble. Weakness dribbled down over him and his hand slipped from Sam's hair to settle on his shoulder.  
  
Their mouths kept moving; the kisses were hard and a little close to painful.  
  
Dean could feel the smooth surface of Sam's teeth, the press of his brother's tongue. It felt like all of Dean was on fire.  
  
"Inside," Dean murmured with breath he'd drawn from Sam's shaky exhale.  
  
They made record time getting onto the lot, locking up for the night and heading into the cabin.  
  
The moment the door closed behind them Dean was  _on_  Sam. He slammed Sam back against the wall so hard something rattled in the other room.  
  
Dean grabbed hold of Sam's jacket and shoved it off his shoulders.  
  
For a few moments, Sam was trapped. Desire flashed in his eyes and he struggled a little harder to get free. Once his hands made it out of the jacket he grabbed Dean's shoulder and held on so tightly that Dean let out a little hiss of pain.  
  
Sam used his hips for leverage and they bounced on the wall then headed across the living room.  
  
Sam's jacket hit the floor and Dean kicked it out of the way as he kissed and bit his way down his brother's strong neck. He loved the taste of Sam's skin; it was all salty and kind of spicy and was enough to drive Dean completely mad with  _want_.  
  
Dean kept his eyes closed and focused on Sam. He ran his hands down Sam's sides and gripped his hips as tightly as he could.  
  
It was Sam's turn to make a muffled noise of protest before he yanked at the front of Dean's jacket until it fell to the floor.  
  
Their shirts were left halfway down the hall, Sam's belt buckle clinked off the wall by the bathroom and Dean's was unbuckled and hanging from his belt loops by the time they were standing at the foot of Dean's bed.  
  
For a few selfish moments Dean just stood there drinking in the view. There was a fine sheen of sweat glistening on the curves of Sam's chest. The best part about looking at Sam was that the guy had  _no_  idea that he was so good looking.  
  
Sam was damn near perfect. There was one small scar that ran along the skin just below Sam's collarbone.  
  
Dean reached out and traced the scar with the tip of his finger. The scar was raised slightly, a little pink, Dean remembered it. They'd been out hunting together for supplies; Sam had been knocked sideways and cut his chest on a nail that was sticking out of the wall. Dean had been scared shitless when he saw the blood.  
  
 _Now,_  that scar just made Sam more resilient, more beautiful.  
  
"What?" Sam's voice was husky.  
  
"Just...just can't believe how much you've changed."  
  
Sam's lips twitched and a slight smile appeared. It wasn't cocky. It was just  _Sam_.  
  
It was a bit of a struggle for Dean to swallow. "Sam. I-"  
  
Sam just tilted his head to the side and frowned.  
  
There were some things Dean wouldn't take without asking and there were some things you didn't ask your little brother for. "I'm definitely going to hell."  
  
The way Sam responded was a complete surprise. He laughed. Not that it wasn't one of Dean's favorite sounds but it was a little out of the blue.  
  
"For what?" Sam asked. "Wanting what I want?"  
  
As Sam took a step closer Dean felt like his heart was quivering.  
  
"Whatever you were gonna say, Dean? Me too." Sam's pupils were so wide there was next to no color left in his eyes.  
  
The problem was that Dean knew what he wanted was nothing short of fucked up. Sam, on the other hand, couldn't even know what he was doing.  
  
Closing his eyes, Dean shook his head slowly. "You don't know-"  
  
"-what I want?" Sam interjected. "For years you've tried to provide everything I need before I even ask about it.  
  
Sam's hand were on Dean's skin drifting down his chest and sliding around to his lower back. He pulled Dean flush to his overheated body.  
  
"This is what I want," Sam said against Dean's open mouth. "I want  _you_."  
  
It felt like the floor had been yanked out from under Dean. Sam's words slid into him like the sharpest knife. He'd never had anything feel so good and so fucking horrible at the same time.  
  
Their lips came together and Sam's tongue was in Dean's mouth instantly.  
  
For a while, Dean's hands kind of hovered around his brother's body then he managed to get a grip on the waistband of Sam's jeans. They were already undone and peeled away from Sam's body quickly.  
  
As Sam's skin was revealed Dean cupped Sam's ass. It made a shudder move through Sam's body and he finally broke from the kiss to moan against Dean's jaw.  
  
The sound vibrated against Dean's flesh and he grabbed Sam's slender waist and threw him towards the bed.  
  
Things sped up a little at that point. Dean tugged Sam's boots off and then pulled his jeans the rest of the way off his body.  
  
Dean stared down at his brother's body - all six foot four of it lying there vibrating and slick with sweat.  
  
And all of that body was Dean's if he wanted it.  
  
And,  _fuck_ , did he.  
  
Dean kicked out of his own jeans and boots then climbed onto the bed. he threw a leg over both of Sam's and leaned over his brother's chest.  
  
He watched Sam's face, drinking in every expression. Dean smoothed his hand over his brother's chest and caught a hard nipple between his thumb and finger. The moment he squeezed it Sam arched up off the bed.  
  
Sam sucked in a deep breath as he rolled onto his side and up against Dean's body. Dean circled his arm around his brother's damp neck and tightened his hold. His other hand slid down the furrow in the center of Sam's back.  
  
Dean wasn't going to wait anymore. He pushed back from Sam and grinned when his brother looked a little disappointed.  
  
The drawer rattled the lamp when Dean pulled it open. There was a small jar of cream inside and he pulled it out to slick up his fingers.  
  
When he looked down at Sam it was into wide eyes. Sam's tongue slid forward to wet his trembling lips.  
  
That was more than enough invitation for Dean. Sam's body was fiery hot when Dean pressed up against it. Sam was all strength, muscle, so solid under Dean's hands it was almost unreal.  
  
There couldn't be anymore waiting. Dean had done too much of that and Sam was impatient enough for both of them.  
  
Dean trailed his thumb over the curve of Sam's ass. He loved the way Sam chased the touch; it was just like he couldn't stand not feeling as much of Dean as possible.  
  
The curve of Sam's ear was smooth under Dean's tongue. He traced it, kissed Sam's earlobe and then bit down on the soft flesh as he slid a slick finger into his brother's ass.  
  
One of Sam's hands slapped down on Dean's arm and he gasped. Lightening fast he slid his mouth over Dean's. The kiss was intense, crazy, a little clumsy and Dean slid his free hand up into Sam's silky hair.  
  
Dean held on to Sam like that as he worked his ass open. All that tight heat drove Dean a little crazy. He could feel Sam's muscles clenching around his fingers and withdrew from his brother's desperate mouth to murmur against his ear. He wasn't sure it all made sense because the way Sam was twisting and moaning was making Dean worry about coming before they did much more.  
  
It felt a little like there was no air left in the room. Dean kept having to remind himself to breathe and Sam was panting, lashes fluttering as Dean's fingers slid deeper.  
  
He stretched Sam's ring of muscle open, knowing it would be a painful kind of pleasure. He could tell when Sam was ready, his thick cock was rock hard and weeping. It was pressed against Dean's thigh and Sam's hips were rocking forward to chase potential release. He was  _so_  ready.  
  
Dean pulled his hand free of his brother's clenched ass.  
  
"Dean?" Sam's voice was plaintive and his nails dug into Dean's shoulder and back.  
  
"Hey, hey," Dean murmured. He pressed his wet lips to his brother's temple. "Be patient."  
  
Dean grinned in spite of how worked up he was. He may have been focused on Sam - he wanted everything to feel amazing to Sam - but  _holy fuck_  Dean was  _so_  ready to fuck his brother. His balls felt like they were swollen and there was an ache inside of him that was getting painful.  
  
Dean pushed at Sam's chest and rolled him onto his other side. He took a few deep breaths as he stared at the strong lines of Sam's back. He could spend hours looking at Sam.  
  
The last of the slickness on Dean's fingers was wiped over the hypersensitive skin of his cock. His breath made a low sound as it pressed past his lips. He could hear Sam panting and could see his brother's hand opening and closing on the bunched-up quilt.  
  
Trying to slow his breathing Dean rested his forearm against the damp nape of Sam's neck.  
  
Sam reached back and slid his hand over Dean's hip. He held on tightly. "Dean."  
  
There was a weakness in Sam's voice that was really difficult to ignore.  _Not_  that Dean had any intention of withholding whatever it might be that Sam wanted.  
  
Sam's skin was  _crazy_  hot against Dean's chest. He slid his hand down between their bodies, enjoying the feel of Sam's muscles contracting with each touch. An extra burst of heat was ignited in Dean's belly knowing he had so much power when it came to his brother.  
  


 


	5. Chapter 5

It was intense when Dean's fingers curled around his own cock because he'd gotten  _way_  too worked up focussing on Sam's pleasure.  
  
Excitement skipped down Dean's spine sending little shock waves of pleasure radiating out. The anticipation was above and beyond anything Dean had ever felt before.  
  
The tender skin on the head of his cock felt like it was scorched when he pressed it to Sam's asshole.  
  
It should feel crazy - wrong - but it just felt amazing to Dean. Perfect. Insane. Vivid. A million sensations and emotions were racing through Dean's mind.  _Going to fuck Sam._  
  
The initial push of Dean's cock made Sam suck in a breath and hold it. Dean knew that it must hurt because Sam's shoulders were rigid.  
  
Curling one hand over Sam's shoulder Dean massaged the tight muscles and pressed his lips to Sam's back. "Won't last like this," he murmured.  
  
Sam nodded once and reached up to get a tight hold on Dean's hand.  
  
The heat of Sam's body made Dean start shaking.  
  
It was too much and Dean pressed forward. He slid deeper into Sam's body and had to close his eyes to stop himself from just driving his hips ahead.  
  
" _God_ , Sam." Dean moved his lips along Sam's back. He licked at the salty skin then just panted against Sam's neck.  
  
The grip Sam had on his hand was painful -  _when had Sam become so strong?_  
  
Dean let go of his half-buried cock and slid his hand around to graze over Sam's thigh. Then he reached his fingers forward until his fingertips brushed over Sam's balls.  
  
Sam's entire body jolted at the touch and Dean smiled into his brother's sweat-damp hair. As he eased his aching cock deeper into Sam's heat Dean traced a finger along the underside of Sam's semi-rigid member.  
  
It was as slow and restrained as Dean could manage without completely losing his mind.  
  
Sam's body was tight and unrelenting and it was unlike anything Dean had ever felt. His heart was racing, his mind numb, his skin felt scalded and a little abused. He could taste his own sweat on his top lip and Sam's on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to stay there, so close to Sam for as long as possible.  
  
Sam's breathing had slowed a little and Dean could feel that his brother's erection was growing again.  
  
One more thrust and Dean gasped as he was buried balls deep in Sam's ass. He panted against the nape of Sam's neck as his brother's muscles pulsed around his swollen cock.  
  
"Sam," Dean whispered. He trailed kisses down Sam's neck and across his shoulder blade. His fingers swept up and down the rigid flesh of his brother's hard-on.  
  
When Sam's hips began to move restlessly Dean pulled his hips back to slide free so he could push back in after a deep breath.  
  
Pre-come leaked from Sam's cock and Deans slid his fingers through it. A shudder ricocheted down Sam's body and he let out a noise that was like a half-formed word.  
  
Their feet were tangled in the quilt on Dean's bed and Dean had to kick free so that he could twist his hips slightly. He pressed deeper, thrust forward with a little more force. Sam responded in kind, he arched his back and his muscular ass pushed back against Dean's body.  
  
"Okay?" Dean murmured as he thrust forward again.  
  
Sam was too busy trying to breathe to do any more than nod. His fingers fluttered over Dean's forearm then he squeezed his brother's arm and arched his back even further.  
  
There wasn't enough air in the room and Dean felt like he was going to pass out. He was overheated; sweat was trailing down his chest. He had no idea if it belonged to him or Sam; he didn't really care.  
  
He thrust forward again. His balls were hurting; they were full and crushed against his brother's ass. And it felt  _so_  good it made Dean's head spin.  
  
Then Sam said the one thing that would make Dean give up the control he was barely holding onto.  
  
"Harder," Sam whispered.  
  
The request made Dean feel weak. He was sure if he'd been standing that he would have fallen. HIs mouth pressed to the soft flesh just behind Sam's ear and Sam moaned in a beautiful way.  
  
The only thing that Dean could do was snap his hips forward.  
  
The fiery flesh of Sam's body engulfed Dean's cock and it was almost painful. But,  _Jesus Christ_ , it was so worth withdrawing because it meant that Dean could slide his aching flesh right back into Sam's ass.  
  
They lost themselves for a while. They thrust against each other ceaselessly. The room filled up with the sounds of their moans and their harsh breathing.  
  
The scent of Sam was all around Dean. Sam smelled of sweat and sex and Dean loved it. He buried his face in his brother's hair and breathed it in so he could commit it to memory.  
  
All the while, Dean thrust into Sam's tight ass again and again. Sam's nails were cutting the skin on Dean's wrist. He noticed the pain on the periphery of his awareness but there was just so much pleasure and  _want_  coursing through Dean's body he couldn't think clearly.  
  
"Sam..." Dean would never be able to say his brother's name again without thinking of the way it felt to fuck into his brother's ass.  
  
Dean could feel his orgasm chasing him down. It began with a tightening in his balls and he shivered as the agony of intense pleasure slammed into him.  
  
The pace of his thrusting increased; his breathing became more and more ragged. He could feel Sam trembling and tried to stroke Sam's hard-on the way that made his brother writhe against his body.  
  
It was erratic. Dean barely had any control over himself. Dean's hips tilted and his cock must have hit  _the_  spot in Sam because his brother flailed an arm out and cried out as he arched away from Dean momentarily.  
  
Dean grabbed a handful of his brother's long, damp hair and pulled it hard enough to stretch Sam's long neck back. He bit down on his brother's sweat-slick throat as he rammed his engorged cock into his ass.  
  
The combined sensations tangled in Dean's body and his orgasm hit with such force that all the air shot out of Dean's lungs.  
  
The instant Dean's balls pulsed he groaned against Sam's flesh. His cock pulsed and then Dean was fucking into the slick heat of his own come. He couldn't catch his breath. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped into Dean and then he felt Sam's body stiffen and knew it would get better.  
  
With Sam's cock heavy in his hand Dean tried to stroke it. Once, twice and then hot come was shooting all over Dean's hand and arm.  
  
"Fuck," Dean managed to mumble. He wrapped his heavy arms around his brother's body and held on as tightly as his weak muscles would allow.  
  
Sam went limp in Dean's embrace. His head fell back. His grip on Dean's arm finally loosened and after a deep breath Sam was almost motionless.  
  
Dean closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of their bodies. He could still feel his muscles twitching as pleasure seeped out of every pore.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
It was quiet in the room for a while then Sam grunted.  
  
Dean let out a weak laugh and lifted a shaky hand to brush Sam's hair back of his face. "Hey."  
  
"Mmhmm." Sam pressed back slightly and grabbed Dean's hand. His slick lips kissed Dean's palm then his wrist.  
  
The final ripple of Dean's release spread through his body and he could feel his cock softening. He didn't want to pull away from his brother's body but he needed to see Sam's face to know that everything was alright.  
  
His cock slipped free of Sam's heat and Dean groaned.  
  
Sam mumbled something and Dean laughed softly and rolled away to lie on his back.  
  
Sam followed Dean as though he didn't want to be too far away. He groaned as he rolled over and then Dean could finally see his brother's face.  
  
The skin on Sam's cheeks was red, his lips were swollen, and his eyes were heavy-lidded and glassy. He looked absolutely pleased with himself. His smile was enigmatic and a little shy.  
  
Dean lifted his fingers to trace the curve of Sam's lips. "What?"  
  
All Sam did was shake his head but his smile grew momentarily.  
  
"You got secrets?" Dean smirked.  
  
Something became far more clear in Sam's gaze and he caught Dean's wrist to bring it to his lips. The kiss he left on Dean's skin was so gentle it made Dean's chest ache a little.  
  
"I don't have any secrets at all, Dean. Not one. Never from you."  
  
The look of innocence, the openness on Sam's face, should have made Dean feel great. But it made Dean feel a flash of guilt. He sighed and pulled Sam's head to his chest. All he wanted to think about was how it felt to hold Sam in his arms. He could sleep with that in his mind.  
  


  
  


  
  
Dean flipped the pancakes that were grilling and grinned smugly at the perfect, golden color of them all. He  _knew_  that with a little creativity he could figure it out.  
  
"Sam!"  
  
There was a muffled groan from down the hallway.  
  
"Sam. Get your lazy ass out of bed! Come and see the perfect fucking pancakes I've cooked."  
  
As soon as he said the word  _pancake_  there was a thump down the hallway.  
  
Dean nodded. He knew how to get his brother out of bed in the mornings. Ever since he was about four foot high Sam had loved sleeping in . But pancakes were one of Sam's very favorite things. Thank  _God_  for stashes of freeze-dried hiking supplies.  
  
Sam shuffled into the living room and over to the stove. He peered over his brother's shoulder and inhaled the smell wafting up from the grill. The moan of pleasure Sam emitted was  _really_  worth all the effort and brain-aching puzzle solving Dean had gone through in order to hook up the small generator to the grill.  
  
When Sam swiped a pancake off the plate Dean elbowed him in the ribs.  
  
When he finished laughing Sam took another bite and leaned against Dean's back. "Why you cooking at the stove?"  
  
Frowning at the way Sam spoke with his mouth full of pancakes Dean flipped the last of the pancakes onto the plate. "Habit."  
  
"You could hook this thing up anywhere," Sam mumbled. He wiped his mouth on Dean's t-shirt and laughed when his brother elbowed him again.  
  
Sam reached a long arm around Dean and grabbed the plate so he could head over to the table. "What's the occasion?"  
  
"What?" Dean tried to sound indignant. "I can't just make my favorite brother some pancakes?"  
  
Sam shrugged. "I guess you can. Not like I mind." Sam sat down and forked several pancakes onto his plate. He poured some syrup onto them and grinned at Dean.  
  
The youngest Winchester had a hell of a sweet tooth and he loved when he had an excuse to get a fix.  
  
"Don't eat all the syrup this time," Dean said.  
  
There wasn't any point in Sam denying it. All he did was grin and start eating.  
  
There were still a few pancakes left so Dean put them on his plate before Sam got all of them. He'd just begun chewing a huge mouthful of pancake when Sam set his fork down.  
  
"Dean?"  
  
"Mmm." Dean kept chewing but he was leery. He was convinced that Sam waited until Dean had a mouthful of food before bringing up  _difficult_  subjects.  
  
It wasn't that he didn't trust Sam. Maybe his little brother had developed a good strategy; Sam was smart that way.  
  
"Dean. I've been thinking about that poster. Those people that will meet up with anyone who waits there?"  
  
The subject had been destined to come up again. Dean could tell that it was still on his brother's mind.  
  
All of a sudden, the pancake in Dean's mouth didn't taste as good as it should. He chewed slowly and swallowed before clasping his hands and resting them on the table. He would listen; he owed Sam that but it wasn't going to change his mind.  
  
"I want to meet them," Sam said firmly.  
  
Dean shook his head sadly.  
  
"Hear me out." Sam waited but when Dean remained silent he continued.  
  
"I know you've always looked out for me, Dean. You've done everything for me my whole life. But I want to meet people."  
  
Dean pressed a closed fist to his lips a moment before speaking. "Sam, we have talked about this so many times."  
  
Sam sighed. "No. We haven't really. I've asked and you have said  _no_. But I'm not asking anymore. I've decided that I'm going to the next meet up. I'll go down and spend the night in the warehouse-"  
  
"- No. This is ridiculous-"  
  
"- It will be perfectly safe there. There's a second floor. I checked it out."  
  
"Oh. You checked it out?" Dean felt a little betrayed. Clearly, Sam had intended to go back from the moment they'd seen the meetup request. those stupid  _fucking_  posters. Dean was going to rip those fucking things down off every wall he saw them on.  
  
"You  _know_  I've never gotten to meet people like you have, Dean. Don't you miss it at all? Don't you ever want to talk to someone else? Just have a change of pace?"  
  
Something pinched at Dean's chest and he smiled weakly. "No, Sam. I don't."  
  
That had always been the difference between Dean and his brother. Sam was  _everything_  to Dean. He wasn't lying when he said that he didn't need anyone else.  
  
Sam's eyes widened and he pushed his plate away. "I'm not trying to hurt you-"  
  
"- you didn't." Dean pushed his chair back and stood. He picked up his plate and headed over to the sink.  
  
"Dean, don't- "  
  
Dean spun and levelled his gaze on Sam. "Don't  _what_ , Sam? Don't be annoyed because you want to do something completely stupid? Don't be pissed off that you want to throw caution to the wind and put our life here at risk?"  
  
The cabin was silent; Sam was just sat there at the table shaking his head slowly.  
  
Anger boiled up inside Dean and he clenched his fists at his sides. "Do what you want, Sam."  
  
"Dean, stop. You're not pissed off at me, you're hurt. There's a big difference."  
  
Pacing back over to the table, Dean looked anywhere but at Sam. He really needed the conversation to be over before he said something he would regret later.  
  
Sam's chair scraped back from the table and he moved over to Dean's side.  
  
Cool fingers settled on Dean's arm and he closed his eyes for a moment before pulling his arm away.  
  
They stood there staring at each other. Sam's eyes were wide and sparkling in the morning sunlight. Dean looked down at the floor after a while, because it was easier.  
  
"Dean? C'mon. Don't be like this. You know I'm old enough to make decisions. This isn't about you. It's  _me_ , Dean. I just want more than this little cabin."  
  
The words cut right through Dean's skin. There was nothing outside of their world that Dean wanted or needed. His home was where Sam was and he was realizing, for the first time ever, that Sam didn't feel the same way.  
  
The muscles in Dean's throat had constricted and he couldn't swallow. He lifted his hand and rubbed at his forehead for a few moments. "I'm gonna go work on the car."  
  
"Dean, I thought..."  
  
Silent, unable to speak another word Dean just held up his hand for Sam to stop.  
  
He couldn't get out of the cabin fast enough. There wasn't enough air in there.  
  
As soon as the fresh morning air hit Dean's face he inhaled shakily. It felt a little like everything was pushing down onto his shoulders.  
  
He knew what would happen. Sam would meet up with other people and the world would open up for him. He'd realize that the world they had - their little universe where the way Dean felt about his brother was good...it would all be taken away from Dean just when he'd let himself have it.  
  
The burden of guilt was pretty intense and Dean sat down hard on the cabin steps. They were solid and warm but it did nothing to ease the feeling that the world was sliding out from under Dean's feet.  
  
He dropped his head into his hands and tried to swallow down the swell of emotion that was choking him.  
  
The door creaked open behind him and Dean stiffened. He didn't want to talk about anything. There was nothing else he could say without incriminating himself.  
  
Sam sat down behind Dean and scooted forward until Dean was safely nestled in the V of his legs. His long, strong arms pushed under Dean's and he cinched them tight around his older brother's chest.  
  
As much as Dean wanted to be immune to the comfort of Sam's body, it just wasn't possible. He leaned his head back and just let Sam hold him up.  
  
"Dean, this isn't about me needing to get away from you." Sam's lips moved against Dean's temple and each of his hands pressed against Dean's chest. It was like being wrapped up in Sam.  
  
"I don't think that, Sam." But, honestly, Dean wasn't sure. Maybe he did feel a little like Sam was trying to replace him.  
  
Ever since they were kids they'd been so different. Sam was just  _so_  fucking bright. He had survived off the books Dean had brought him from raids. He listened intently every time the radio was on. He had regaled Dean with ideas for inventions, new things for them to grow for food and the science behind finding a cure for the creeper illness.  
  
It was no wonder that someone with an I.Q. like Sam's wanted stimulation. Dean knew he didn't have the smarts to even begin entertaining his brother forever.  
  
"Hey." Sam's fingers dug into Dean's chest as he tried to get his brother's attention.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What you thinkin' about?"  
  
"You. The way you've always been so fuckin' smart. Must be hell bein' stuck with someone like me."  
  
"No," Sam said into Dean's hair. "It's never been hell. You're the best thing in my life-"  
  
"- That's because I'm the only thing, Sam." Dean closed his eyes and tried not to concentrate on the heat that Sam's body was giving off. Dean felt like he was in the safest, most secure place in the world with those long arms wrapped so tightly around him.  
  
But.  
  
He could feel Sam slipping away. Maybe was to be his punishment.  
  
"So, you think that I only feel the way I do because I'm  _stuck_  with you? I think that's pretty insulting." Sam's arms fell away but he stayed where he was. Each exhale of breath moved Dean's hair slightly.  
  
"That's not what I meant," Dean answered. Things were getting more and more entangled by the moment. Each word Dean spoke seemed to sink him deeper in shit.  
  
Dean shifted on the step and twisted around so he could see Sam's face.  
  
Sam's feature were drawn, his eyes looking strained.  
  
"This has gone so far off the rails." Dean forced a smile onto his face. He knew it wasn't very convincing judging by the expression on Sam's.  
  
"Listen, Sam. If you need to go and meet these people then I won't stop you." It was one of the most difficult things that Dean had ever had to say.  
  
[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/twoboys2love/66949000/9589/9589_original.jpg)

Nodding slowly, Sam pressed his lips together and looked away for a few moments. "I know you still don't want it but I'm gonna go. I just want to ask you a big favor."  
  
Dread settled on Dean's shoulders and he rolled them back a little. It did little to alleviate the weighty feeling. "What favor?"  
  
"Come with me."  
  
"No." Dean tried to turn away but he was caught by the wrist. Sam's grip was tight.  
  
Sam leaned in and curved his free hand around Dean's neck. He held Dean there, their eyes locked.  
  
"Sam, no."  
  
"Dean, you have  _never_  made me go anywhere alone. You always have my back. I'm not discounting your concerns. It makes perfect sense to me." Sam's eyes welled with tears but he didn't look away.  
  
The ache in Dean's chest was painful enough that he wondered if a heart attack might be what finally saved him from the conversation.  
  
Sam was telling the truth. Dean had always been right at Sam's side. He couldn't think of a single situation that he would send Sam into alone.  _Not one._  
  
"Please, Dean. Come with me."  
  
There was no way Dean was going to risk speaking. And there was no way he was going to let his brother go into any situation alone. Dean nodded and closed his eyes.  
  
"I knew you'd come."  
  
"Fuck off, Sam." Dean turned away once Sam's grasp loosened. He would go along because he didn't want his brother to stumble into some trap. But he didn't have to go along happily.  
  
Sam stayed silent. His fingers curled over both of Dean's shoulders and rubbed gently.  
  
When Dean remained stiff, staring down the path to the gate Sam let his hands slide slowly down Dean's back.  
  
Finally, Dean felt the press of Sam's lips just in front of his ear. "I love you, too," Sam whispered.  
  
The step creaked as Sam stood and it wasn't until Dean heard the door bag shut that he let his shoulders sag.  
  
Dean blinked back the tears that threatened. It felt like the beginning of everything being torn apart. This  _meetup_  was just the first step towards the end.  
  


  
  


  
  
It was a good thing there was a while before the meetup because it took an entire day for Dean to stop being pissed off at Sam. He would drive to the meetup with Sam. He would spend the night with his brother on the roof of the abandoned warehouse. He would even meet whatever person showed up and kick their ass if necessary.  
  
What Dean would  _not_  do was be happy that his brother wanted to start an entirely new life with other people.  
  
After a full day of being pretty pissed off Dean ran out of energy. He also got bored but he wasn't about to admit to Sam that time apart sucked.  
  
Granted, they weren't very far apart because neither of them left the compound. But still. It was easy enough for Sam to stay in the garden.  
  
The first night after their disagreement Dean had gone to bed early. He was tired and frustrated. Sam hadn't joined him and that had just fueled Dean's belief that things would change. Yeah, it could have been that Dean was radiating enough anger to confirm that  _leave-me-alone_  was the vibe of the day, but it still sucked.  
  
Without Sam in it the bed felt huge, cold and uncomfortable. Yet another reason to be pissed off at Sam.  
  
For his part, Sam acted normally. Well, as normally as one can act in a zombie-proof apocalyptic compound in which the only company you have is a pissed off older brother.  
  
Sam would talk to Dean even though an answer wasn't always forthcoming. Dean still cooked although he rarely felt like eating.  
  
By the third night Dean was hungry, tired, lonely and was really missing Sam's presence. He went to bed early after a quick swim in the creek. He was still sitting on the bed towelling his hair when Sam knocked on the door.  
  
Sam had never knocked before.  
  
Another step away from each other.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Can I come in?"  
  
"Yeah."  _No, no, no, because I can't stay pissed off forever._  
  
The door creaked further open and Sam's face appeared around the edge of it.  
  
Dean peered out from under the towel and nodded a greeting.  
  
Sam stepped into the bedroom hesitantly and leaned back against the wall beside the door. He just watched Dean for a while.  
  
Eventually, the feel of Sam's gaze was too much and Dean tossed the towel over his shoulder and looked up. "what's up?"  
  
"You still pissed at me?"  
  
"I was never - I mean-" Dean didn't like to lie to Sam. He kept secrets, sure, but he tried not to flat out lie about anything. "What do you want, Sam?"  
  
For a few moments Sam looked a little uncomfortable then he ran a hand through his hair and looked down at his feet. "Can I stay in here tonight?"  
  
"Why?" Dean wasn't sure why he asked that. It didn't really matter. He loved Sam enough that any answer would do.  
  
"I miss you. Us." Sam looked up and over at Dean with sadness in his eyes.  
  
"I didn't tell you to stay away."  
  
"You kind of did."  
  
To buy himself a little time to get his emotions under control Dean picked up the towel and tossed it into the laundry hamper.  
  
"Okay," Dean said finally. "Sorry. So, what's up?" It was harder than Dean expected to keep a little distance from Sam.  
  
"Come on."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Stop," Sam said firmly. And then he did something that knocked Dean's world completely off kilter. Crossing the room in four strides Sam knelt at Dean's feet. He slid his hands over Dean's knees until his fingers tucked just under the edge of Dean's boxers.  
  
The only way Dean could stop himself from reaching for Sam was to close his eyes.  
  
The near-silence in the room was thick and stifling. Dean could hear his brother's shallow breathing, feel the warmth of his brother's hands and it hurt.  
  
Then those hands were gone and Dean felt it like a blow. The craving Dean felt to touch his brother was like an itch normally. But having Sam pull away from him felt worse than usual.  
  
When Sam spoke again Dean blinked his eyes open and stared down into his brother's eyes.  
  
"Dean, if it means ...  _this_  then I won't go to meet anyone. Just. Can't this stop?" Sam's voice was thick with emotion and melted the icy stubbornness that Dean had held on to so tightly.  
  
Dean reached out and trailed a finger along Sam's cheekbone. "I'm. I'm sorry, Sammy. It just made me a little crazy. The idea of you..." Dean couldn't even say it. What if Sam met someone else?  
  
"Then don't shut me out for no reason. I want thing to go back to normal, okay? No meetups, no more people. Just you and me. Please?" Sam leaned closer but kept his hands to himself as though needing to be invited back into Dean's space.  
  
There was so much guilt lodged in Dean's throat that he wasn't even sure he could breathe properly. He was being selfish, so very selfish. He reached for Sam's t-shirt and tugged him forward until he was between his legs.  
  
"I'm sorry," Dean whispered against Sam's lips. Dean knew he could be an asshole sometimes, but,  _Jesus_ , how was it that Sam brought out the best and the worst in him.  
  
"I need you," Sam murmured. "Just you, okay?"  
  
The ache in Dean's heart made him close his eyes and lean forward. As soon as their lips met Dean felt heat sliding down his spine. It felt like his flesh tingled to life again. Just the slightest brush of their lips and it was like life was being breathed back into him. He was  _so_  screwed. He'd spend the rest of his life trying to please Sam, keep him safe.  
  
After he let out an almost-snarl Dean caught Sam's bottom lip between his own then slid his tongue along it.  
  
Sam's hands were back on Dean's thighs and his nails were biting into Dean's flesh.  
  
"Dean," he whispered.  
  
There was so much want in Sam's voice that Dean moaned quietly. He couldn't come up with anything to say that would show Sam how he felt. There weren't enough fantastic words to let Sam know how perfect he was and how much Dean needed him.  
  
"Can I stay here tonight?" Sam murmured between kisses. "Please?"  
  
Dean's next breath in caught on a swell of emotion and his eyes widened. How could Sam not know that would always be okay?  
  
"Of course you can. You.  _Jesus._  You always could have." Dean felt like absolute shit. Yeah, he'd had a temper tantrum. But, if Sam had come through that door at any time Dean would have given in. He forgot, sometimes, how fragile Sam could be when it came to dealings with his heart.  
  
Dean stood so quickly that he nearly fell over his brother. He yanked Sam up to his feet by his t-shirt and hauled him into his arms. He'd protect Sam with his body if it came down to it  
  
Sam buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck and grabbed at his brother's back as though his life depended on it.  
  
As he stroked Sam's hair Dean murmured into the silky strands. "I was just pissed off and bein' stupid. It's never- I mean, God, Sam. I could never-"  
  
It hurt to even think about how he'd shut Sam out and over some  _stupid_  stranger they had yet to meet. "Come to bed, Sammy."  
  
Sam nodded without loosening his hold on Dean.  
  
Dean had to pry his brother's arms loose so he could move. He pulled his quilt back and motioned for Sam to get in.  
  
Without waiting for any further encouragement Sam dropped his jeans and tossed his t-shirt over his shoulder. Once he was perched on the edge of the bed he pulled his socks off then crawled under Dean's quilt.  
  
A few deep breaths went a long way towards calming Dean. He'd really had  _no_  idea that his stupidity had unsettled Sam so much. The love he felt for his brother always seemed so big that it hadn't occurred to Dean that Sam would question it.  
  
It was still pretty early but Dean didn't care. He flicked the light off and slipped under the quilt to press up against Sam's side.  
  
Sam was staring up at the ceiling; his long lashes curled up towards his eyebrows. Dean had never noticed before how long they were. Strange. He spent so much time looking at his brother and there were so many things he didn't  _see_.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sam said in a husky voice.  
  
"Hey." Dean grabbed Sam's chin and turned his brother's head until they could see each other's eyes. "You didn't do anything wrong."  
  
"I don't need to go and meet those people," Sam said quickly. "It doesn't matter. I don't need other people; I swear." The words all rushed out so quickly that Sam was left panting. He looked away but pressed into Dean's touch.  
  
The stubble on Sam's jaw was rough against Dean's fingers. He dragged his thumb along the bold contour of Sam's jaw. "You need a shave."  
  
Blinking a few times Sam smiled shakily. His shoulders stiffened then he shrugged and the smile faded.  
  
Dean's heart cracked a little and he pressed kisses to Sam's cheek, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. "I will  _never_  leave you. You know that, right?"  
  
It took a little too long for Sam to nod.  
  
"We'll go and meet these people. You and me together," Dean murmured. The velvet skin of Sam's supple lips parted as he sighed. There was relief in the sound and Dean could feel the tension seeping out of Sam's body as they kissed.  
  
It wasn't rough or needy; Dean just focussed on the smooth softness of his brother's mouth. His hands moved over Sam's shoulders, down his muscular arms then brushed over the soft cotton of Sam's boxer briefs.  
  
His fingers gripped Sam's hip tightly; their lips were moving slowly. Sam licked at Dean's bottom lip, his fingernails dug into Dean's chest.  
  
Seeming more hesitant than usual Sam nipped at the fullness of Dean's bottom lip. His breath puffed out hot and damp into Dean's mouth.  
  
They pressed closer. Their legs tangled, hands traced the rise and fall of each other's bodies. It was too fast and close for Dean to tell where his body ended and Sam's began.  
  
Teeth scraped over Dean's Adam's apple and he sucked in a surprised breath. Sam's hot mouth slid down Dean's neck until his teeth could leave indentations on either side of Dean's collarbone.  
  
Dean liked the idea of Sam marking him; something Dean could look at in the mirror in the morning.  
  
Sam's tongue teased Dean's nipple until it hardened and tingled. Dean's entire body felt over-stimulated. Everywhere Sams mouth was there fire against Dean's skin. Then when Dean was just about ready to pull away because he couldn't take anymore Sam's lips would trail over flesh to find a new spot to torment.  
  
Of course, it was the most pleasurable torment Dean had ever hoped to survive.  
  
There was something about the way that Sam's mouth sucked, bit and heated every inch of Dean's skin. There was desperation in it; somehow Sam needed to taste all of his brother's skin.  
  
As Sam travelled down his brother's body Dean tangled his fingers in Sam's hair. He could keep Sam in the perfect spots, guide him lower when he needed  _more_.  
  
 _More_.  
  
The wet heat of Sam's mouth sucked at Dean's belly button and Dean's body trembled as Sam's chest pressed over his aching cock.  
  
Sam was too much. Everything about Sam was hot and perfect and Dean had him all to himself.  _That_  was why he didn't want to share- _God_.  
  
The world exploded away from Dean as Sam's lips slid over the head of his shaft. The thrill of the sensation made Dean's spine arch up. He released Sam's hair so he could dig his fingers into the sheets below him.  
  
Everything narrowed down to Sam's mouth. The heat of it slid over the head of Dean's cock; Sam sucked and Dean nearly came. It was  _that_  simple.  
  
Pleasure pounded into Dean over and over and took his breath away. He didn't manage to find it again until Sam slid the ring of his lips down further.  
  
Half of Dean's throbbing shaft was enveloped by the soft heat of Sam's mouth. Teeth grazed gently over the rigid skin and Sam's tongue pressed against the skin. It was insanely good and if Dean died in that very moment it would be absolutely okay with him because he knew things could never get better than they were.  
  
"Sam, I-  _Jesus_ ," was all Dean could manage to slur. His tongue felt like lead, his skin was tingling and covered with sweat. The pounding of his heart was deafening and Dean felt a little like he was floating.  
  
It was all Sam's mouth. It was the heat and slick and absolutely sinful way that Sam's tongue was caressing the flesh of Dean's cock.  
  
Dean was heartbeats away from the peak of pleasure. His hand slid down his sweat covered flesh until his fingers reached Sam's cheeks. He brushed his fingertips down Sam's skin and could feel the bulge of his cock under Sam's skin.  _That_  was enough to drive Dean over the edge.  
  
Pleasure cut into Dean's belly and he yelled. It was painful and amazing and Dean lost his hold on the world for a while.  
  
The throb of Dean's release was like a punch in the gut. His body curled up off the bed and the breath was squeezed out of his lungs.  
  
Somehow, Dean's fingers managed to tangle in Sam's hair again. He was sure he nearly wrenched Sam's neck but it wasn't like Dean had control of his muscles after the brain melting orgasm. Trembling and weak Dean fell back onto the mattress as his balls ached and he could feel his cock still pulsing weakly.  
  
The muscles in Sam's neck worked the over-sensitive flesh and Dean almost whimpered.  _Sam was swallowing his come._  
  
"S-Sam." The world went dark as a fog of pleasure curled around Dean. His body jolted a final time and he lay there gasping.  
  
Dean was vaguely aware of the cool air hitting his spit-slick flesh and Sam's humid breath against his stomach.  
  
Time was creeping around Dean but he had no idea how much of it had passed before he felt Sam crawling up his body.  
  
When he managed to open his eyes Sam was right in front of him. There was a dopey smile on his little brother's lips and Dean chuckled weakly.  
  
Sam rested his chin on Dean's shoulder and whispered into his brother's ear. "You taste  _so_  good."  
  
Another thrill of pleasure skittered down Dean's body and he groaned as his cock twitched feebly.  
  
He could feel Sam's smile on his neck and Dean knew Sam was going to  _kill_  him one day.  
  
"How long before you can fuck me?" Sam whispered against Dean's ear.  
  
 _Want_  shot down Dean's body and he lurched off his back to press Sam down into the mattress and kiss the smirk right off his face.  
  


  
  


  
  
Hours had passed. They'd slept, Sam had gotten what he wanted when Dean had fucked him hard enough that there were going to be aching muscles in the morning.  
  
Sam was sprawled on his back with his head resting on Dean's arm. Dean was on his side, hand stroking over the muscular curves of his brother's chest. He was in awe of Sam; trying to reconcile the Sam he'd always known with the exotic creature in front of him.  
  
"You're crazy," Dean said softly.  
  
Sam's head turned slowly until he could see his brother. "Hmm?"  
  
"You. Crazy." Dean's fingers bumped over Sam's nipple and he arched into the touch like a cat into a beam of light.  
  
Frowning slightly, Sam shrugged. He either didn't understand or he didn't care what Dean meant.  
  
Dean knew exactly what he meant. Sam was just so  _free_  with what he wanted. He had none of the hangups about right and wrong that troubled Dean but then...why would he?  
  
Sam was a different kind of Winchester. And Dean was pretty sure he would  _never_  get enough of it.  
  
"Sam. Where'd you learned to do - you know?"  
  
Sam's eyebrows arched and he looked pretty smug. "Secret."  
  
For a few moments Dean felt a twinge of jealousy. Was it even possible that, at some point over the years, Sam had found the time to slip away with someone? It  _couldn't_  be.  
  
Dean curled his arm up to pull Sam's face towards him. "No one else can  _ever_..."  
  
He couldn't say the words. He couldn't say that the thought of someone else's hands on Sam's body made Dean feel so fired up with jealousy that he didn't know what he would do.  
  
Sam blinked slowly and his smile softened with affection. "Can't believe that you'd think it was even a possibility."  
  
It was Dean's turn to shrug and he pressed his lips together so he wouldn't say something stupid. He really  _did_  think it was possible. He figured as soon as he talked about their relationship with someone new Sam would bail. There wasn't anything all that great about Dean in the first place. When Sam found out how fucked up Dean was - well. Yeah.  
  
"Books," Sam said quietly.  
  
"Huh?" Dean kept Sam pulled in close to him; he liked the heat of his brother's body.  
  
"I learned some stuff from library books," Sam said. "You weren't always paying attention to what I was choosing."  
  
"Wow." Dean laughed. "I didn't know you could get stuff like that at the library." Once he thought about it, Dean wasn't that surprised that his brother had found a way to read about sex. Sam was resourceful and had always been too damned curious about everything.  
  
"You should do more reading; you might learn something." Sam smirked then grunted when Dean pinched his nipple.  
  
Dean held onto the nub of flesh as he leaned closer again. "What you sayin', Sammy?"  
  
"Nothing." Sam's teeth sank into his bottom lip as Dean rolled the nipple between his thumb and finger.  
  
"Sure sounded like you were implying that I needed to learn something. but, from where I'm sitting it looks as though I'm doin' pretty well." Dean loved the feeling of having a little power over Sam. He could tell by the blissful expression on his brother's face that the simple touch, the barely veiled threat was enough to wind Sam up again.  
  
After a few more moments Dean let go of Sam's nipple and rubbed his hands down Sam's midline to settled over his abs.  
  
"How'd you learn?"  
  
Dean nosed into Sam's hair. He loved the way it smelled. "From mags."  
  
Laughter rattled up out of Sam's body and he shook a little. When he stopped he was still grinning. "You got 'em while Dad was around?"  
  
"You're not the only one who can be sneaky," Dean said. He smirked and curled his arm right over Sam's body. He could lie there forever; all tangled up with Sam's body.  
  
"Well, I'm glad," Sam murmured.  
  
Dean closed his eyes and smiled. He could tell that Sam was falling asleep. He'd always been able to tell. No one knew more about another person than Dean knew about  _his_  Sam.  
  
Breathing in the scent of his brother's body Dean let himself relax and drift off.  
  


  
  


  
  
A couple of days passed before the meetup was discussed again.  
  
It wasn't that Dean was avoiding further discussion; it just didn't come up. He may have half hoped that Sam had given up his quest.  
  
He hadn't.  
  
Dean was repairing part of the fence; for some reason some of the links had been pulled apart by someone.  _That_  was something Dean really didn't want to think about.  
  
The wire was substantial and it took quite a bit of strength to twist the new links together.  
  
The sun was beating down on Dean's shoulders and he could feel sweat running down the furrow of his spine. He rubbed his damp brow on the shoulder of his t-shirt and snarled at the wire.  
  
"Did it piss you off?"  
  
Sam's voice made Dean jump and the wire slipped out of his hand. "Jesus, Sam. Don't creep around like that."  
  
A smirked moved onto Sam's face and he shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "Wondered what you were doing. You've been out here forever."  
  
"Only a couple hours." Dean yanked his t-shirt off over his head and wiped the sweat off his face before rubbing the shirt across his chest.  
  
Sam's eyes widened and his eyes followed the t-shirt as it moved.  
  
Dean did a double take when he caught his brother staring. "Don't you think about anything else?"  
  
When Sam's eyes finally made it up to Dean's both men were smiling.  
  
"You stand around with your shirt off? What d'you expect?" The way Sam was standing with his back to the sun was perfect. The edges of his hair were lit up from behind and it was like a strange golden halo.  _Not_  that Sam would have qualified for a halo.  
  
"It's  _hot_  out. And, unlike you, little brother, I'm working." Just for Sam's benefit Dean wiped the t-shirt slowly over his abs then tossed it onto his tool box.  
  
"I was weeding. We can have corn in about a week. Cool, huh?"  
  
Dean smirked. "Cool?"  
  
"Now I speak wrong, too?" Sam frowned and kicked at a rock near his foot.  
  
"You're adorable."  
  
Even though Sam shook his head so that his hair fell across his face Dean could tell a smile had appeared back on his lips.  
  
"Did you want something, Sammy? Or did you come down here just to bless me with your presence?"  
  
Sam swept a hand through his hair. It was a nervous tic. There must be something that Sam wanted to tell him.  
  
"I was thinking about that meetup." There was a lightness in Sam's voice but it seemed a little forced.  
  
"Yeah?" Dean turned away and fiddled with the wire to avoid looking at his brother.  
  
"It's in two days. The full moon."  
  
It wasn't as though Dean had forgotten. He  _couldn't_  forget. "And?"  
  
"Well." Sam shifted; his sneakers kicked up little clouds of dust. "If I pack some stuff for us we could drive there tomorrow morning. The big door would open enough for the car and we could sleep on the roof."  
  
Dean glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. His sweaty fingers slipped off the wire again and the sharp edge of it sliced his finger open.  
  
"They'd meet us the second day," Sam continued. There was a touch of  _hope_  in his voice.  
  
Nodding Dean hooked his fingers through the links in the fence and stared at the blood that was dripping from his finger. It was dark red, shining in the sun and painted the thick wire as it dripped.  
  
"So?" Sam's voice wavered.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Can we go?"  
  
When Dean was quiet he could feel Sam practically vibrating beside him.  
  
"Dean, if you get a bad feeling when they show up we can bail. I mean, strategically, it would be really good to have the car in the warehouse. We don't even [](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/twoboys2love/66949000/9842/9842_original.jpg)

have to be outside. We could wait on the roof. High ground." Sam was panting by the time he finished.  
  
Dean dragged his finger through the blood on the wire and then turned slowly to face his brother. "Okay."  
  
"I swear that if you get a bad feeling we can get out of there. I won't argue with you or anything. I'll get everything ready and all you have to do is drive." Sam stopped abruptly and looked a bit puzzled.  
  
"What?" Dean clenched his hand into a fist and felt the blood seep out between his fingers.  
  
"You said  _yes_ ," Sam said.  
  
"Yeah. I said I would. If you've changed your mind-"  
  
"No. No. That's great," Sam agreed quickly. A pink flush of excitement was gliding up Sam's neck onto his cheeks. The smile on his face was warm and happy and Dean felt the tug of it in the middle of his chest.  
  
He was clenching his fist so tightly that he could feel his pulse throbbing. Everything was going to change.  
  
"You better start getting stuff together," Dean said firmly. "Get goin'."  
  
Eyes glistening, Sam stepped in and wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders. The embrace was so tight that Dean could hardly pull in a breath. There was the soft press of Sam's lips to Dean's cheek and then Sam was gone.  
  
Dean watched as Sam jogged back up to the cabin. He finally relaxed his hands. There was a burning ache in his right hand and Dean held it up so he could look at the cut.  
  
Blood was smeared along his palm, embedded in the creases in his flesh. The cut was about an inch and a half long; it would scar. Dean would have a scar to remind him of the day his brother began leaving. A simple reminder.  
  


  
  


  
  
The brothers were quiet on the drive back down the hill and into the industrial area. It wasn't uncomfortable; Dean figured his brother was lost in thought about the people he would meet.  
  
There wasn't much in the way of positive thoughts going through Dean's mind. He spent the first half of the drive trying to compose the speech he was going to give Sam about remaining mum about their relationship.  
  
He spent the second half of the drive thinking he was insane for agreeing to the meetup. It was those stupid slanted eyes and the way they looked like they were different colors. And that lopsided smile that revealed just enough of his teeth for the smile to be bright. All that  _Sam_  stuff.  
  
By the time they arrived at the warehouse they hadn't exchanged more than a few sentences and Sam was fidgeting restlessly.  
  
The car wasn't even completely stopped before Sam had his door open. The passenger door slammed and Sam was moving around the vehicle as he surveyed the parking lot.  
  
"Clear," Sam said loud enough for Dean to hear through the window.  
  
The full gamut of emotions was whirling around in Dean's mind. But, outside the car Sam looked calm and focused. He was doing everything by the book. Well, by John Winchester's book.  
  
The car door creaked as Dean leaned on it to climb out. Sam was already working the door to the warehouse back open.  
  
"Seems quiet around here." Dean glanced around but there was nothing moving. There were a couple of crumpled bodies about a hundred feet away; probably creepers that had been taken down by someone or something. Dean and Sam had argued on many occasions about whether creepers could  _die_  of starvation.  
  
"Yeah." Sam grunted as he yanked on the chains revealed in the side panel and then he began pulling the door up.  
  
Dean watched with a smug look on his face. There was no way he was doing the dirty work. This was all Sam's thing.  
  
The clanking of the warehouse door seemed extremely loud and Dean cringed as he looked around again. It never hurt to be paranoid.  
  
Finally, the metal of the door clanked heavily into place at the top of the doorframe. Sam motioned for Dean to bring the car in.  
  
Dean slid back behind the wheel and fired up the engine. He pulled the car forward slowly and smirked when Sam had to move out of the way so the sideview mirror didn't catch him in the nuts.  
  
The door was coming down as soon as the car was inside. By the time Dean was climbing out of the car again the it was closed and the warehouse was silent.  
  
They listened for a while to make sure there were no creepers inside.  
  
"Sounds good," Dean said after a few minutes.  
  
"Alright. Let's get this place locked down for the night." Dean clapped his hands together and headed around to the trunk.  
  


  
  


  
  
_Locking down_  reminded Dean of when they would arrive at a motel room and board up the windows. In a warehouse the process was pretty much the same. The difference was that it took about an hour for them to secure the first floor.  
  
They locked and barred the doors, boarded up windows and scoured every possible hiding place they could find for creepers.  
  
When they were finished Dean felt a little relieved. They headed upstairs with their duffle bags once they'd emptied the trunk. Dean really wanted to get settled. He was hungry and tired and the twenty-four hours that were left before the meetup could possibly be all that Dean had left with his brother.  
  
Their boots clanked on the metal stairs as they climbed. Twice they stopped to lock up gates with their own hardware. They'd be locked up tighter than Fort Knox.  
  
The air was fresh and warm when Dean finally cracked the door to the roof open. "God, finally."  
  
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "That was a lot of damned work."  
  
"You're gettin' soft up there at the cabin." Dean chuckled.  
  
"Fuck off," Sam muttered breathlessly.  
  
All Dean did was laugh. He tossed his bag down on the roof and walked over to the edge.  
  
Even though it was only three stories up, there was a pretty clear view of the outskirts of the town. It wasn't a big place but there had been enough residents in the town that there were more than enough creepers. "You'd think we would have gotten 'em all by now."  
  
"What?"  
  
"The creepers. There as a limited number of people in the damned town. Where do they keep comin' from?"  
  
Sam stood at his brother's shoulder. "Maybe they come from out of town. Maybe when you gotta get rid of them one at a time you just get a clearer understanding of how many people it really is."  
  
"Could be." It seemed like a pretty reasonable explanation.  
  
"You see a lot?" Sam leaned against Dean's shoulder.  
  
"I see them in my sleep." Dean knew that wasn't what Sam meant but that didn't make his answer any less truthful. There wasn't a lot of time that could pass without Dean thinking he saw a rotting corpse creeping towards him.  
  
"You've been doing this a long time, Dean. It's not a surprise." Sam's hand moved under Dean's jacket and pressed to the small of his back. "Almost your entire life."  
  
"It's what I do, Sammy." If he was lucky, Dean might be less than halfway through his life. Maybe getting rid of creepers wasn't the most important thing that anyone had ever done but it gave Dean something to focus on.  
  
For a few moments the Winchesters stared out at the streets that were criss-crossing their way off into the distance.  
  
"Aren't you tired, Dean?"  
  
Dean opened his mouth to disagree and then realized that his eyes were a little sore. "I could sleep after all that driving."  
  
"No. I mean - in general." Sam slid in behind Dean and looped his arms around his brother's waist. "All these years of killing-"  
  
"-they're not alive, Sam-"  
  
"-but you know what I mean," Sam said. "When you were a kid what did you want to be when you grew up?"  
  
"Sam, I'm too tired for games."  
  
The squeeze of Sam's arms made Dean groan.  
  
"I'm serious, Dean. What did you want to be?"  
  
It took a few moments of thought for Dean to remember a time  _before_  creepers. "A mechanic at a hot rod garage. Wanted to strip 'em down and build 'em back up again. End up with something as beautiful as my baby."  
  
Sam rested his face against Dean's shoulder and held on tightly to his brother. "You know. If we meet people and there's a group they will probably have a lot of vehicles they're trying to keep running. A guy like you would be worth his weight in gold."  
  
"I don't wanna change other peoples' flat tires for the rest of my life." There were a lot of other things that Dean wouldn't want from the group but that was high on his list.  
  
"That's not what I meant," Sam said in a quiet voice.  
  
When he was certain his voice would be steady Dean chose his words carefully. "I know that you want this, Sammy. Maybe I don't understand it but I think I get why you do. The thing is, I don't want it. We're here for  _your_  bucket list, not mine."  
  
He felt Sam nod against his shoulder and slid his arms over his brother's. He waited for Sam to argue, tell him how wrong he was or ... anything. But Sam was silent. The realization that Sam had run out of arguments had Dean feeling a little hopeless. There would be no changing Sam's mind.  
  
"Wanna set up the tent?" Dean asked  
  
  


  
  


  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

The new tent they'd scavenged on one of their recent outings was great. When Sam pulled it out of the stuff sack the thing had sprung open. Along with the tent they had also picked up ground mats, sleeping bags and a small solar-powered lantern.  
  
While Sam had organized everything inside the tent Dean had made sure that the roof door was closed and locked with one of their padlocks. He walked the perimeter once more to ensure there was nowhere for creepers to get access to the roof. There were no problems.  
  
As Dean completed the circle of the roof he leaned down and grinned at Sam. The sleeping bags were laid out lengthwise and the lamp was near the unzipped door. Sam was sitting cross-legged on one of the sleeping bags while he read.  
  
"Well, aren't you the happy little homemaker."  
  
"Might as well be comfortable," Sam muttered good-naturedly. The book remained right where it was and Dean shook his head as he smiled fondly.  
  
"All secure up here," Dean said. He swung his crossbow off his shoulder and set it just outside the door of the tent.  
  
As the sun set the sky was becoming a water color. Dean wanted to sit on the edge of the roof and watch the sun sink below the horizon completely.  
  
He left Sam reading and trudged over to the nearest roof edge. No more than a hundred feet from the loading dock far below was a creeper.  
  
It was still wearing scraps of clothing as it lurched along the road. The matted hair might have been blonde once upon a time; it was difficult to tell.  
  
Dean followed the walking corpse with his eyes for a while. It simply wandered in a straight line as though it had a destination but Dean knew it didn't. It was like some kind of disgusting automaton that was programmed to attack anything that moved.  
  
The air had cooled as the sun began to set and Dean pulled his jacket a little tighter around him.  
  
He wondered about the people who might show up the next day he wondered about what kind of people would expend the effort it took to arrange meetups all over the place. As far as Dean was concerned there  _had_  to be an agenda. All that energy would need to have a big payoff or it just wouldn't be worth it.  
  
"What are you thinkin' about?"  
  
"Tomorrow."  
  
"The people?" Sam took a seat beside his brother and dangled his legs over the edge of the roof.  
  
"Just wonderin' what kind of person goes looking."  
  
"Lonely?" Sam looked out over the dimly lit streets. There wasn't enough sun left for them to see much detail.  
  
 _Lonely._  Dean's confidence took another swing down. "Are you lonely, Sam?"  
  
"As soon as I said that I knew you would think that I was." Sam sighed then pulled one leg up so that he could turn and face Dean. "I don't suppose it ever occurs to you that other people might not have what we have?"  
  
It hadn't really occurred to Dean, but then, he wasn't too concerned about what other people had or didn't have. He cared about Sam and that was it.  
  
Taking a page from Sam's book Dean turned things around on his brother. "Does it ever occur to you that not  _everyone_  is as honest as you?"  
  
"I'm not naive, Dean. I know that there are good, bad, crazy and fucked up people out there. But it doesn't mean that everyone is. Sam reached for one of the untied laces of his boot and wound it around his finger.  
  
"Maybe we're both right," Dean said.  
  
"Maybe." Sam was staring down at the lace again as he unwrapped it. Dean could see the red indentations on Sam's skin from the tight binding.  
  
"I'm not pissed," Dean said quietly. "But are you lonely, Sammy?" All the tension in Dean's body was making him feel as though the air was too thick to fit into his lungs.  
  
After a few moments Sam looked up. "Lonely is the wrong word. Curious maybe?"  
  
Dean nodded.  
  
"You said you sneaked off a few times when you were able to," Sam prompted.  
  
Dean nodded again and smiled sadly. "Yeah. You were too little to be any fun and Dad, well, he was Dad. Not a lot of fun."  
  
"Tell me about going off on your own."  
  
"Just a couple of times. I was a teenager. You know what that's like. A couple of times we met up with people who were young enough that I was interested."  
  
"And?" Sam had dropped his lace and slid his hand over his brother's thigh.  
  
Slightly amused Dean lifted his head and peered at his brother. "Dude, I don't kiss and tell."  
  
"Come  _on_ ," Sam urged. His cheeks were a little pink and his hair was tousled by the slight wind. All combined it was cute.  
  
"It was just teenage stuff, Sam. Makin' out, scared of gettin' caught but excited by that hanging over us." They were fond memories for Dean. His life had been pretty crazy and there were little moments when he'd felt connected to people. They were things he wanted to just keep to himself. Little treasures of normal.  
  
As though he knew that Dean wasn't going to say any more, Sam smiled and looked back out over the city. "I thought about it once. You remember when you and I met up with that ex-art dealer and his daughter?"  
  
"I think so," Dean answered. If Sam was going to talk then Dean wasn't going to reveal that he remembered most every detail about their encounters. But he remembered Sarah. And he remembered Sam's piqued interest.  
  
"Sarah," Sam said. "Long black hair, big brown eyes, beautiful skin." Sam drifted off for a little while then looked over at Dean briefly before looking away.  
  
"I remember her," Dean prompted.  
  
"I thought she liked me and it made my guts burn. Made me feel a little crazy. First time I felt that fluttery shit, you know?" Even though Sam looked quite comfortable his cheeks were a little rosy like he was embarrassed.  
  
"What did you do?" Dean had mixed feelings about hearing the rest of the story.  
  
As the last of the daylight disappeared behind the horizon Sam pulled both legs up and shifted closer to his brother. "I kissed her. Her lips were soft and tasted like cherries. It made my legs all shaky." Sam chuckled and looked down.  
  
Dean reached out and moved Sam's hair back then tucked it behind his ear. He always liked seeing Sam's eyes when they were talking.  
  
"Kissing is underrated," Dean said.  
  
Sam's head turned swiftly and he stared at Dean with wide eyes.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just seems...out of character for  _you_  to say something like that." Sam smiled hesitantly.  
  
"Really?" It made Dean a little sad that Sam was surprised about things like that. He just had trouble talking about some things because he didn't think Sam would take him seriously.  
  
But chances existed to be taken. Dean's hand smoothed over his thighs and then settled on his brother's hand. His fingers fit perfectly in between each of Sam's.  
  
"Sam, I can still remember the very first moment that I realized that I wanted you." Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him.  
  
"You can?"  
  
"We were outside L.A. Some big lake. You managed to convince me that it was safe enough for us to go swimming. I didn't want to swim but I stood there on the shore watching you." Dean could remember it so clearly it was like it happened yesterday.  
  
"You stripped down and waded into the water. The sun was bright and warm and it smelled so good out there. Fresh, you know?"  
  
Sam nodded and curled their fingers into his palm.  
  
"The water. Your hair was stuck to your cheeks and it was catching the sun where it beaded on your chest. But your smile. _God_. It was a beautiful thing, Sammy. You just radiated happiness and it got to me. Made me feel things."  
  
Sam locked eyes with his brother. There was something in his gaze that sent a fuzzy kind of warmth slinking through Dean's body. "What?" Dean asked.  
  
As he shrugged Sam smiled and pulled Dean's hand onto his lap. "It's just - I like that. That you remember that."  
  
For once, it was Sam who was a little short on words. But Dean loved the look on his brother's face. And he loved the fact that  _he_  had put it there.  
  
Without letting go of Dean's hand Sam looked back out at the darkening city stretched out before them. "Dean. You know that no matter what. No matter who we meet, nothing between you and I will change?"  
  
Dean looked down at their hands. His hand was more tanned, freckled on the back. Sam's fingers were longer, paler. They were different like that; Sam was light and Dean was a little darker.  
  
"Dean?" Sam looked at his brother. "You  _do_  know that, right?"  
  
The best that Dean could come up with was a shallow nod. He knew that Sam believed what he was saying but Dean also knew how quickly things could change.  
  
Sam just stared silently. The expression on his face was a little sad. He probably knew what Dean was thinking; he usually did.  
  
"We meet them tomorrow at noon?" Dean asked.  
  
"Yeah," Sam replied softly.  
  
"We should go test out the sleeping bags." Dean smirked but Sam showed no sign that he'd even heard his brother.  
  
Very slowly Sam turned to look at his brother.  
  
While Sam was looking a little puzzled Dean stood up. "Let's get in the tent."  
  
"You cold?"  
  
Dean shook his head. "No, Sam. I'm not."  
  
It was a few moments before understanding lightened Sam's features. "Oh."  
  
Dean smiled and pulled Sam up. "I'll give you  _oh_."  
  


  
  
Waiting. They weren't too early but Sam had been far too excited about the meetup. After about half an hour of Sam pacing back and forth Dean had yelled at him. The were heading out about ten minutes later.  
  
They walked the short distance to the meetup so they could keep the car stashed safely. Sam fidgeted the entire time and Dean just kept an eye out for creepers.  
  
Dean wasn't all that excited. In fact, he was hoping that no one would show up at all. He'd much rather deal with Sam's disappointment than the other alternative. He figured that this potential meetup was Sam's chance. If nothing happened then Dean had done his bit.  
  
They were quiet while they waited; the only sounds around them made by the wind. All the rustling and inactivity was eating away at Dean. He was certain he could feel every single minute ticking by.  
  
When they finally heard an engine off in the distance, the sound seemed completely unreal.  
  
At the same time as Dean scrambled up to stand on the dumpster they'd been sitting on, Sam moved to slide off.  
  
"No," Dean said firmly. His hand snapped down to grab Sam's jacket.  
  
When Sam looked up at Dean he was frowning. It looked like he was going to say something but, after a few moments, he just shook his head dismissively and stood so he could lean back against the wall behind them.  
  
For some reason, Dean grabbed Sam's hand. As the vehicle appeared at the end of the street Dean held his breath.  _It was really happening._  
  
"What do we do?" Sam asked quietly.  
  
"We wait  _right_  here," Dean said. "We don't move until we're certain there's no threat." He sure as hell hoped that he'd be able to find a threat. He was itching to pull the pistol out of the back of his belt.  
  
As the vehicle continued towards them Dean studied it. It was a quarter ton pickup, white, looked like it was about ten years old. It was raised up for more clearance. Probably a good choice for getting around in the hills.  
  
They'd never seen the truck before so the camp must be well hidden or a damn long drive. Either way, it made Dean suspicious. But then, what didn't?  
  
There was a cloud of dust in a plume behind the truck and Dean squinted to try and get a look at the driver. Small...might be a woman. She'd definitely be armed. If she wasn't carrying she was completely crazy.  
  
"Dean?"  
  
Anxiety was radiating off of Sam. He was trembling and Dean loosed his grip so he could rub his thumb over Sam's.  
  
"Listen, Sam. If this works out and we meet these people don't mention about us being together."  
  
Sam tored his gaze away from the approaching truck to stare at his brother. "What?"  
  
"Just trust me on this."  
  
"I just don't see why-"  
  
"Sam!" Dean snapped. "Let's argue about this later. Okay?"  
  
A hardness settled on Sams face and Dean was pretty certain he'd never seen it quite that intense before.  
  
"Are you ashamed of me? Of us?" Sam asked. His voice wavered slightly.  
  
Dean looked from Sam's dark gaze to the truck that was pulling closer by the moment. "Sam,  _trust_  me."  
  
Sam pulled his hand away and shoved it in his pocket.  
  
The last thing Dean needed was Sam blurting out that they were brothers who were sleeping together.  _God_. That was a conversation that Dean didn't want to have with anyone.  
  
"I can't believe you," Sam murmured.  
  
The truck pulled up about a hundred feet from the dumpster. Dean could smell the diesel.

 

[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/twoboys2love/66949000/10273/10273_original.jpg)  
  
He  _really_  didn't want to meet anyone but they were already in the middle of it. He was tempted to drag Sam off and race them back to the warehouse. A few hours of driving and everything could be back to normal.  
  
But Sam wanted to meet people and Dean knew it was something that needed to be done or Sam would end up leaving Dean for so many  _other_  reasons. Dean crouched down on the top of the dumpster and flipped his jacket open.  
  
The woman behind the wheel of the truck was petite, thin but muscular. She looked pretty athletic and could, no doubt, smoke them in a foot race. Her golden blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. It looked as though she was well-groomed.  
  
If the camp had bathtubs or hot showers then Dean  _may_ just have to reconsider his relentless protests about meeting people.  
  
The woman slipped out of the truck and jumped down from the running board. She walked closer to the dumpster and stopped with a slight smile on her face. "Hi."  
  
Dean looked down at her. She looked as though she had _far_  more confidence in her situation than Dean did.  
  
Sam sat down and dangled his legs down. His boots clanged against the metal wall of the dumpster. "Hey."  
  
Dean watched the woman as her eyes widened when they settled on Sam.  _God_ , he really didn't need some young woman with a crush on his brother.  
  
"I'm Jo. Jo Harvelle." The woman settled back on her heel. She didn't look the slightest bit worried, just alert.  
  
"Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean."  
  
Dean shrugged and threw his hands up then glared over at Sam.  _Really?_  
  
"You're here for the meetup, yeah?" Jo smiled and took a couple of steps closer so she could make better eye contact with Sam.  
  
After a few seconds of silence Sam jabbed Dean with his elbow.  
  
"Yeah," Dean said quickly. "We saw.  _He_  saw the poster. What's the protocol?"  
  
Jo's smile never faltered. "No weapons. You come in my vehicle; you ride in the back of the truck. Security will clear you at the other end; they'll hold any weapon for you. Then you're free to look around."  
  
Jo looked back at Sam. "Or I can give you a tour."  
  
"No," Dean said without hesitation. "Not leaving my weapon anywhere." There was  _no_  way he was going into the situation without any kind of defence. He couldn't take care of Sam if he couldn't fight on level ground. They were taking enough of a risk leaving the car and their gear at the warehouse overnight.  
  
Jo nodded. "Okay then. No harm, no foul. You two take care."  
  
Sam grabbed his brother's arm and shook it. "Dean. Please. It's just for a little while."  
  
While shaking his head slowly, Dean glanced over at Sam. "No, Sammy. We don't go anywhere unarmed."  
  
"Well then, boys. You know when I'll be back," Jo said. She smiled at Sam. "It's been a pleasure."  
  
With Dean's focus on Jo, Sam was able to slip down off the dumpster. "I'll go by myself. Please wait, Jo."  
  
Dean jumped down instantly and stood there itching to grab Sam's hand. He knew he wouldn't get anywhere if he started ordering his brother around. "Don't, Sam. Please."  
  
"Guys?" Jo scuffed the dirt with her cowboy boots as she took a few steps closer. "I've got to stay on schedule. Have to swing by one more rendezvous point on the way home."  
  
Dean stepped a little closer to his brother and discreetly pressed his palm to the small of Sam's back. He smiled at Jo before turning to Sam. "Please, Sammy."  
  
There was sadness etched on Sam's face. Dean knew that it would hurt Sam to go against his brother's wishes but he also knew that Sam could do it.  _God_. If Dean ever saw one of those stupid posters again he would tear it to shreds.  
  
When Sam remained still, Dean fixed a smile on his face. "Jo, can you give us a couple of minutes?"  
  
Jo nodded, smiled and headed back to lean against the front wheel well of her truck.  
  
"Sam. Don't do this. It's not safe. If you go into this without a way to defend yourself then-"  
  
"Dean, stop," Sam said firmly.  
  
Although Dean bristled at Sam's tone, he fell silent. There were no arguments that he hadn't already made multiple times.  
  
After a quick glance at Jo, Sam reached out and settled his hand on Dean's hip. "I'm going. I  _will_  come back. I promise."  
  
For some reason, it was Sam's promise that cracked Dean's resolve. He stared into his brother's eyes for a few heartbeats and then turned to call out to Jo. "We'll just get ourselves together and both come with you."  
  
Jo nodded and pushed off the truck to go around and open the back up.  
  
Sam's expression changed instantly and his shoulders relaxed. Clearly, Dean had made the right choice. They took a couple of minutes to discuss emergency plans quickly although it wasn't nearly as in-depth as Dean would have liked it.  
  
By the time Sam and Dean were at the back of Jo's truck she had the gate down and the cap door flipped up. Obviously, Jo had a lot of experience transporting people. There were narrow, covered benches over the wheel wells and there was a small cooler.  
  
Hands on her hips Jo smiled at the Winchesters. "There's water in the cooler and some food. The windows slide open and you can lock the shell from the inside if you feel more comfortable."  
  
Sam nodded and hopped up into the back of the truck. Dean watched as his brother sat, hunched over, on one of the benches and fidgeted around. He took a last look around.  
  
"Dean, right?" Jo asked.  
  
Squinting into the sun behind Jo Dean nodded.  
  
"You don't want to do this, do you?" Jo was slight of build but that didn't make her any less intimidating. The handgun holstered on her belt contributed to the overall effect.  
  
"I'm here to have my brother's back. That's all," Dean said quietly. He glanced at Sam but his brother was pre-occupied with the contents of the cooler.  
  
"You sure you want to come along?" Jo's eyebrows lifted and she tilted her head slightly.  
  
"I'm good," Dean said firmly. "Where he goes, I go."  
  
"Get in," Jo said happily.  
  
After a deep breath, Dean climbed up into the back of the truck.  
  
The metal gate slammed shut and Jo peered over it. " 'Bout a three hour drive if I don't run into any trouble. You need anything, bang on the window."  
  
Dean nodded and Jo closed the top gate.  
  
Her boots crunched on the gravel outside as she headed back to the cab. Her door slammed shut and the engine revved up.  
  
The brothers were silent until the truck lurched into gear.  
  
"Well," Dean said.  
  
Sam opened a bottle of water and drank some of it. He dragged his hand across his mouth and grinned. "Three hours of someone else driving. You gonna go nuts?"  
  
Dean shot his brother a look before shifting over to sit beside Sam. He  _really_  wasn't going to let Sam get any further away from him than was absolutely necessary.  
  
Sam set the bottle down and looked over at his brother. He slid his hand over Dean's thigh and squeezed. "Thank you."  
  
"Don't go gettin' all misty, Sam. There's still plenty of room for this to go south." As far as Dean was concerned, he was an expert on the potential for things to go badly wrong. He couldn't see any reason why things might change.  
  
"It's gonna be just fine, Dean. You'll see. Don't you get a good vibe from Jo? She's pretty. They obviously take care of themselves too; she's pretty fit."  
  
"Fit? Is she your type, Sam?" Dean sounded far more jealous that he'd intended. It just all felt a little out of his control.  
  
With his brow furrowed Sam withdrew his hand and stared at Dean with his mouth open slightly.  
  
"What?" Dean was suddenly uncomfortable on the bench. He fidgeted then reached behind him to slide the small window open.  
  
"You're jealous." There was a smug expression on Sam's face and it got under Dean's skin.  
  
"I'm wondering what the hell is going to happen on this  _trip_  you got us into." It was partly true. There  _was_  a hell of a lot to worry about.  
  
"Dean? You've got  _nothing_  to worry about. You know that, right?" Sam reached up and smoothed his fingers along his brother's jaw gently.  
  
Shaking off Sam's touch wasn't the easiest thing that Dean had ever done. But, the last complication they needed was Jo finding out a bit too much about them.  
  
"I hate it when you do that," Sam said softly.  
  
The truck bumped over some rough ground and Dean's shoulder banged into the shell. He winced and rubbed at his arm.  
  
Dean kept his gaze aimed down at the floor of the truck. He always found it difficult to look at Sam when he felt like he had disappointed him. Dean hated disagreements but doubly so when they were with his brother and best friend.  
  
 _Disagreements._  that word didn't really fit what was happening. "Just remember what I said, Sam. Keep our relationship to yourself. The less they know, the better.  
  
After a few moments of silence Sam nodded and shifted further away.  
  
Dean shook his head. He knew what Sam was thinking. He  _knew_  his brother had a problem with keeping their relationship hidden.  
  
"Sam. Listen to me. There are things you don't understand-"  
  
"-then tell me!"  
  
"Just. For  _once_ , do what I'm asking you, okay?"  
  
Sam nodded and leaned back against the shell.  
  
"And don't get all miserable and stop talking to me. That won't help anything." Dean felt a little out of his depth. He and Sam had few reasons to have a  _real_  disagreement. But Sam should be used to Dean laying down the law, or at least, trying to.  
  
Sam rubbed at the longer-than-usual stubble on his jaw  
  
"So? What's it gonna be?"  
  
Looking completely pissed off Sam stared at his brother. "I won't talk about us being together. At all. Ever. For any reason. I've got it. I'm not a child, Dean."  
  
"You're doing a good impression of one," Dean spat. The entire argument was Dean's fault and he  _knew_  it. The situation was making him nervous and when he was nervous he made stupid mistakes. It was impossible to get himself out of some of the messes he could potentially get into with his brother.  
  
Distance darkened Sam's gaze and his lips twitched slightly. "You done?"  
  
There wasn't an answer that Dean could come up with that would make everything okay. Soothing Sam's ruffled feathers would have to wait until they got home.  
  
Instead of trying to talk to his brother Dean closed his eyes and hoped that he would be able to get some sleep. It was a terrible strategy yet the only one he had.  
  


  
  
By the time the truck came to a stop Dean had managed to sleep for a little while. Sam was wide awake and Dean thought about asking how long he'd slept until he saw Sam's scowl.  
  
They had passed through some kind of gate from the sound of things. Dean had looked out the small window but there wasn't much to see other than a reddish brick wall. He caught a brief glimpse of someone's back near the gate but that was it. Dean was reminded of the entrance to a high security prison; he really hoped that wasn't the kind of place it turned out to be.  
  
Jo was alone when she opened the tailgate. "Come on out, boys."  
  
When she stepped back Sam moved to get out but Dean stopped him. "Wait here, Sammy."  
  
Even though Sam let out a frustrated sigh he stayed put.  
  
The sun was still bright and Dean squinted when he poked his head out of the back of the truck. There were three men standing about twenty feet away. From what Dean could see they didn't appear to be armed.  
  
Jo was standing off to the side. She was obviously trying to give Dean enough space that he didn't feel threatened.  _Clever girl_.  
  
One final look around and Dean was sufficiently convinced that there was no immediate danger.  
  
He hopped down out of the truck and stretched his aching back. He nodded over his shoulder at Sam.  
  
Sam jumped down and smiled at Jo. "We here?"  
  
"Almost," Jo answered. "Benny, over there, is gonna pat you two down and then we're good to go."  
  
The smile on her face looked pretty genuine but  _Benny_  was another story. With his dark hair and sullen expression he looked far from friendly.  
  
Of course, Sam straightened and held his arms out to the side as though being searched was perfectly normal.  
  
Dean was gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw was aching. He could feel a cramp starting in his neck and rubbed at it. "Let's get this over with."  
  
Benny strode over to them and ran his hands over Sam's chest and sides. Dean had to look away because he realized he was in the process of convincing himself that Benny was enjoying his job a little too much.  
  
"You guys this paranoid all the time?" Dean asked to distract himself as Benny took Sam's hunting knife.  
  
Jo folder her arms and shifted her weight. "We run a pretty tight ship in terms of security. We've put a lot of effort into making Eden the kind of place that we all wanted it to be."  
  
"Eden?" Dean smirked. "That's not ominous at all."  
  
"Dean." Sam stumbled slightly and settled his stance wider as Benny ran his hands down Sam's legs.  
  
Something acidic burned in the pit of Dean's stomach and he looked away from Sam quickly.  
  
Jo raise one eyebrow questioningly at Dean.  
  
Definitely a  _clever_  girl.  
  
Fortunately, Benny finished searching Sam and moved over to stand in front of Dean. The two men stared at each other silently for a few uncomfortable moments and then Dean lifted his arms slowly.  
  
"I didn't choose the name," Jo said as she walked over to stand beside Dean. "I probably would have called it something like Utopia."  
  
Dean turned his head slowly and Jo winked at him. Dean managed to at least not scowl at her. She was hot, intelligent and funny and Dean didn't want to like her. More than that though he didn't want  _Sam_  to like her.  
  
Sam tugged his jacket back into place and smoothed his t-shirt down. "Security is a good thing."  
  
"It is, Sam. I'm sure things are the same wherever you guys live." Jo reached up and picked something out of Sam's hair. "Fluff."  
  
The moment Dean's gaze met Sam's he felt like the ground was falling out from under him. There was a pink glow on Sam's cheeks and he was a little flustered. Dean figured he knew Sam well enough to know when the guy was uncomfortable. Maybe he thought Jo was cute, or hot or -  _Jesus_.  
  
"So!" Dean said as brightly as he could manage. "What's next on the agenda? Do we get a guided tour? Lunch? I could use something to drink besides lukewarm water."  
  
As he was speaking Dean resisted the urge to punch Benny as he searched through Dean's pockets.  
  
"We can stop for some food and drink if you like," said Jo.  
  
"How many people are here?" Sam asked. "Do you have a library? I've collected a lot of books over the years. I love reading."  
  
"Me too!" Jo exclaimed. She laughed and looked genuinely pleased by Sam's excitement.. "We  _do_  have a library, Sam. Whenever we have out-missions we try to bring back as much reference material as we can. We have a couple of old laptops that run on a modified generator. But, of course, they're only linked to one another.  
  
Sam's mouth was gaping as he listened to Jo and Dean couldn't help rolling his eyes.  
  
"A  _working_  computer?"  
  
"Yeah. I mean, the amount of time we can use the generator..."  
  
The conversation devolved into technical babble and Dean tuned it out almost immediately. Sam could ramble on for hours about books and lost technology and now he was talking to someone who seemed like a fellow nerd.  
  
Dean realized he was in for an incredibly long day.  
  


  
  
Eden as pretty impressive.  
  
The tour only lasted about an hour but Dean could tell they had only seen a small portion of the place.  
  
Jo had led them through the security checkpoint, the receiving docks, then into Eden's administration. Six flights up led them to the hub of activity and a view of Eden laid out in front of them.  
  
They'd thought of pretty much everything. There was a school, a food plant, fields of crops, and even a park. There was even a damned park.  
  
Jo introduced Sam and Dean to a slightly nervous man named Chuck. He was the elected leader of Eden. Dean could see that Sam liked Chuck. He had kind eyes and curly hair that looked a little like he'd just rolled out of bed.  
  
Chuck spoke to Sam and Dean at length about Eden. There were over five thousand people. there were children, a school, a medical clinic and a small security force.  
  
Sam listened intently  _except_  for the times when Jo was up on her toes whispering something in Sam's ear - all those little confidences conspired to make Dean a little annoyed.  
  
Okay. He wasn't annoyed so much as jealous as all-fucking-hell. He was beginning to realize that their time at the cabin, the life they'd created was Dean's personal definition of perfect. He wanted to go back to that as soon as possible.  
  
"So, Chuck," Dean said as he stared out the window. "How many members in your security team?"  
  
"Fifteen full time and thirty that I can request for service in extenuating circumstances."  
  
Turning very slowly Dean leaned back against the window. "What exactly would extenuating circumstances be?"  
  
Eyes darting nervously from Sam then back to Dean, Chuck smiled slightly. "Too many zombies at the gates? Sounds like a movie. If there was some sort of breach of the outer wall."  
  
The language interested Dean. " _If_  there was a breach?"  
  
Sam wandered over to where Jo had gone to fill out some paperwork. He leaned down to rest his hands on her desk and smiled at her as they spoke.  
  
"Well," Chuck said. "There hasn't been any security breach since we completed the wall. No Zombies inside."  
  
For a few seconds Chuck looked pleased with himself but then his smile faded when Dean didn't return it in kind. Chuck cleared his throat nervously.  
  
"Hey, Sam," Dean said loudly. "What you two talkin' about over there?"  
  
There was a grin on Sam's face when he looked up. "What?"  
  
"I asked what you two were talking about." Dean tore his gaze away from the flush on Sam's neck. The muscles across his shoulders tightened. Everything was starting to feel a little stifling.  
  
Sam swept his hair back off his forehead and it all fell forward again when he looked down at Jo. "Jo is gonna show me the library. We're gonna head over there now while Chuck shows you the mechanic's shop.  
  
"Really." Dean squared his shoulders and had to avert his gaze so that Sam wouldn't see how irritated he was getting. "Enjoy."  
  
It looked as though Sam was about to say something but then his brow furrowed and he looked a little hurt.  
  
All Dean could think was  _good_. Because he was, frankly, pretty sure that the hurt Sam was feeling was only about a tenth of what Dean had been feeling since Jo had shown up. Dean had known that things would go sideways; he just hadn't expected it to happen so quickly.  
  
Sam cast a lingering glance at his brother as he followed Jo out of the room and then he was gone. Dean's heart was beating fast and strong and it made his hands feel a little shaky. He clasped them together and smiled at chuck. "Guess we're on our own, Chucky."  
  
"Wasn't he a little doll that killed people?" Chuck looked a little repulsed.  
  
"Hah!" Though Dean was mildly amused he had to force his laugh. He'd just about had enough and he still had more than half a day to get through. If he made it without punching someone it would be an absolute miracle.  
  
The room was silent except for the buzz of the generator. It felt a little tense and Dean just wanted to get out of there. "Chuck? Garage?"  
  
"Mechanic's bay," Chuck muttered as he gestured towards the nearest door.  
  


  
  
The tour proved that  _Eden_ , more than lived up to its moniker. There was pretty much everything in the little colony that Dean could imagine anyone might possibly need.  
  
There had been a couple of physicians working on a way to manufacture a vaccine. Dean had just stood there, a bit dumbstruck as he watched the physicians listening to a radio broadcast from another group of survivors. Somehow, they had devised a system of alternating broadcasts so they could share their data and work together on their research.  
  
There had been a quick trip through a kitchen that had smells in it that Dean hadn't experienced in a very long time. It smelled a bit like  _home_  and it made Dean feel a little uncomfortable. They skirted around the library when Dean said he wasn't interested; he didn't want to know whether or not Sam and Jo were still there. He saw a little bit of food production and some of the huge houses that had been converted to dormitory-like housing for single people. Chuck had said that Sam and Dean would be welcome to stay there and Dean and managed a weak  _thanks_. Chuck had asked if Dean wanted to see an empty room but Dean had declined; he really didn't want to see where Sam might want him to live in the future. Sam, he figured, may have other residential plans by then.  
  
They walked quickly past a huge field of crops and then they were at the mechanic's bay.  
  
Even Dean had to admit it was pretty awesome. There were four working bays inside the huge converted outbuilding. The guys working there had devised a method for a working lift with some pulleys and lever systems. It looked as though they were working on a lot of vehicles that were kitted out for security runs. His suspicions were confirmed when Chuck introduced him to Lisa. Yes. The head mechanic was a woman. Dean's opinion of Eden grew in leaps and bounds when she gave him a firm handshake.  
  
Chuck seemed pleased to be relieved of Dean-duty. After he extracted confirmation that Dean knew how to get back to the entry gate he scurried off quickly.  
  
Dean, on the other hand, spent the next blissful two hours with his nose in the engine of a Jeep Wagoneer Cherokee Chief. It had a V8 and Dean and Lisa spent a while passing on tips and tricks to each other. All in all it was probably, the highlight of Dean's day. He even managed to forget for a few moments that his brother was off somewhere in a beautiful new place with Jo.  
  
After they had worked their way through two engines, Lisa suggested that the team go and have some lunch. That was where things got a little bit surreal for Dean. Dean was seated at a long table with four other mechanics. There was some beer that had been brewed by one of the guys in the admin department and then, the trophy, a cheeseburger. It looked a little weird but it was meat and bread and cheese. The cheese was goat and the meat was chicken but it was still the best burger that Dean could remember. He made enough joyous noises while eating that Lisa had enquired about whether he wanted a private room with the meal. They laughter eased the tension remaining in Dean's neck and shoulders and the rest of the afternoon went smoothly.  
  
Once he had finally said his goodbyes to the mechanics and headed back to admin Sam had been gone for hours. Chuck walked Dean back to Jo's truck and left him there after assuring him that Sam would be along soon.  
  
Chuck had invited Dean to stay. In fact, Chuck had said, he knew that Jo would be offering the same deal to Sam. They were to have their own rooms in the newly-converted dormitory, Dean would apprentice to work on the mechanic team and Sam would be invited to train up with the science team at Jo's recommendation. It was a great offer for Sam; it would be a world that Sam would flourish in. Science and technology? Sam would be falling over himself to get to the position.  
  
The thing that was really stirring up Dean's temper was the fact that he was sitting on the tailgate of Jo's truck and Sam wasn't there so they could even have a discussion about the offer.  
  
There was no way in hell that Dean was going to stay there. What he had seen on Sam's face though, the happiness, the curiosity; none of that had been there for a very long time. Sam might even offer to come back with Dean but it would be out of some sense of duty to family rather than anything else; Dean knew it.  
  


  
  
The bumper was beginning to feel really hard under Dean's ass by the time he saw Sam off in his distance.  
  
"Dean!" Sam jogged the rest of the distance between them until he was standing in front of Dean, panting slightly.  
  
The way Dean's jaw was clenched, he would be surprised if he could pry it open to speak.  
  
Sam planted his ass on the tailgate beside Dean's. "There are  _so_  many books in the library. It's insane. They're working on collecting texts and things like electrical diagrams so they can act as a resource for people who are rebuilding. It's awesome. There are three people working in there but they sure need more."  
  
Dean nodded once and looked down at his hands. He had a death grip on his thighs. "You know, you could just stay here. I mean, I know about what they want us to do. Science? Mechanics?"  
  
There was something burning in Dean's gut and his head was pounding. From the moment Jo had turned up the pressure had been building and it felt like it needed to just blow up. Even his spine felt a little like someone was crushing it in their fist.  
  
Finally, Dean turned his head to see his brother's face.  
  
It was clear that Dean had taken the wind out of Sam's sails and a small part of him couldn't help being a little happy about that.  
  
"Dean? What's wrong?" Sam's eyes were watery, his hair tousled and Dean could smell a slight scent of perfume. There wasn't any doubt in Dean's mind who the perfume originated from.  
  
"Nothing. You're enjoying the hell out of yourself. Why not move in? You know you'd be able to do any work that they threw at you. Access to the library?" Dean knew he should shut the hell up. He was too angry to be having any kind of conversation with Sam; it wouldn't end well.  
  
The truck bounced slightly as Sam stood. He walked a couple of steps away and then turned on Dean. "This is ... this is stupid. You said we could come here. What are you so pissed about?"  
  
Dean tried to keep his emotion from showing on his face. He didn't even understand what the hell was going on in his head but it felt like someone was swinging a sledgehammer around in there.  
  
"Listen, Sam. You had a great time with  _Jo_ ; that's really good. Perfect. You can stay here and I'm going back to the cabin." The stupid thing was that there wasn't any way at all for Dean to imagine going back without Sam. Sam was just as much a part of his home as the walls, the roof, each log that was holding the damn thing up.  
  
"You're jealous because I had a better day than you."  
  
"Shut up," Dean barked.  
  
Sam blinked a few times and then shook his head while he looked down.  
  
They were quiet for a few moments. Dean was trying to figure out what he could say that might turn things around; he had no idea what was going through his brother's mind. He found it hard to determine that on a good day.  
  
"Listen, Sam. I get it-"  
  
"-What do you get?"  
  
"It's good here. There are people your age-"  
  
"-Our age." Sam finally looked up again.  
  
" _Our_  age," Dean echoed "You like Jo, I can see that and that's perfectly natural." It took a hell of a lot of Dean's willpower to get the words out.  
  
" _What_  are you  _even_  saying to me?" Sam rubbed his hands over his face and frowned.  
  
"I'm  _saying_  that it's okay that you want to be here. That you want to be around other people." Dean's heart was breaking a little but there were so many thoughts going through his mind. He could remember the look on John Winchester's face when he'd told Dean to look after Sam. Maybe letting go of Sam, as difficult as it was, was exactly what needed to be done.  
  
"I don't get you," Sam said quietly.  
  
"Chuck said there's a room for you. There are some clothes." When Dean swallowed, his throat ached. It felt tight and swollen and he rubbed at it unconsciously.  
  
"You want me to stay here?" There was a fierce glint in Sam's eyes and he squared his shoulders.  
  
What was Dean supposed to say to that? Every cell in his body was screaming for him to tell Sam they needed to go home and go back to the life they had created for themselves. He needed Sam like he'd never needed anyone else. "Yeah."  
  
"Yeah?" Sam blinked once and then his shoulders slumped. "That's all I get for an explanation?"  
  
"You asked. I answered." When Dean slid off the truck's bumper Dean felt about a hundred years old. "Can you find Jo? Tell her I need a ride back to the car."  
  
Sam didn't answer immediately and when Dean looked up his brother was staring at him. It was harder than  _hell_  for Dean to hold Sam's gaze but he knew if he looked away Sam would know he was lying. Part of him hoped that Sam would call him on it.  
  
"Go on, Sam. You and I - it can't. I'm  _exhausted_  by this. You need to stay here. We need to stop...it's not good." That was the last straw for Dean's heart but he felt he owed Sam a guilt-free good-bye.  
  
Sam's eyes narrowed and he stared hard at his brother until Dean had to look away. He wasn't able to look up against until he heard Sam walking away.  
  
It felt like all of Dean's muscles gave out at once and he slumped. He would go insane if he had to stay there much longer.  
  


  
  
The way Dean saw it, Jo took her sweet time getting back to him and the truck. By the time he saw her slight figure in the distance he'd checked his watch about fifty times.  
  
“ ‘Bout time," he said gruffly when Jo finally approached him.  
  
"I was  _trying_  to get Sam settled. He's not very happy." Jo handed Dean one of the bottles she was carrying. "Sit with me for a minute?"  
  
Dean didn't want to have a heart to heart with Jo. It was bad enough that he was leaving Sam but he had no idea what Sam and Jo had discussed. He trusted Sam with his life but Sam trusted too quickly; it was in his nature.  
  
Jo headed over to a short wall just behind the truck and sat down. She opened the bottle of water she was holding and looked at Dean as he sat down.  
  
"It took me so long because Sam and I were talking," Jo said.  
  
The sound of her voice was soothing and as Dean looked over at her the sun caught the more golden stands in her hair. She _was_  pretty; her skin flawless and her smile sweet. Sam hadn't been around enough people for Dean to know if his little brother had a type. But someone like Jo would be the kind of girl that Dean could imagine his brother settling down with.  
  
"I'm glad he feels that he can talk to you. That's good. Great start." Dean took a drink from his bottle and then inhaled deeply after he swallowed.  
  
"It was weird," Jo said.  
  
"You get used to him. He's odd. Weird one in the family."  
  
"Dean."  
  
"Fine. What was weird?" Not that Dean really wanted to know.  
  
"This afternoon while I was with Sam he was  _so_  happy. He was telling me all about you, about all the things you two get up to." She was smiling and tucked her hair behind her ear before putting the bottle down beside her.  
  
Suspicious, Dean took another drink then wiped his bottom lip with his thumb. "We don't get up to all that much."  
  
The expression on Jo's face softened and she leaned into Dean's side for a moment. The gesture was friendly and warm and Dean closed his eyes for a little while to steady himself.  
  
"Sam talked to me a lot about you and him.  _And_ , he asked me a lot about the community we have here. He seemed particularly interested in how  _tolerant_  everyone was."  
  
"Tolerant?" All of Dean's alarm bells were going off and his urge to flee was pretty overwhelming.  
  
"He met one of the guys who works with the livestock."  
  
"Yeah? That's...that's great, Jo." Dean was pretty sure he was being lead somewhere but he really didn't want to play games. What he wanted was for Jo to drive him back to the car. "Jo, I don't know where you're going with this-"  
  
Jo's expression changed again. Her near-perfect features had taken on a knowing look and Dean's throat suddenly felt Sahara-dry.  
  
"Sam really wanted to talk to that guy because he and his husband have been living here happily for a few months now." Jo paused and looked at Dean as though she expected him to have something to say.  
  
Dean confined himself to a shrug and a noncommittal expression. Dean knew that  _he_  hadn't mentioned or done a single thing that would have even given Jo a hint that he and Sam were together. While they'd all been together, Sam hadn't said anything suspicious either.  
  
Bordering on panic Dean ran through everything he'd warned Sam about. They talked about Sam being quiet about them being together.  _Jesus._  Dean never should have let them get separated. He had no idea what had been said or what Jo may have just figured out on her own.  
  
"Jo, Sam wants to be here. I don't. The cabin is my home. I'm not a people-person like he is. Just ... Let him start over here. He'll be happy. He's happy around you," Dean said.  
  
"That's the thing," Jo began. "This afternoon he was talking about you, your car, the trips you guys take?  _Then_  he looked happy."  
  
"Of course. See." Dean was tired and confused and just wanted to get the hell out of there.  
  
"Now? Just now when he came to find me? I'm pretty sure he looked like he was trying not to cry. It's the first time all day I've seen Sam look...sad." Jo shrugged.  
  
A deep breath did little to calm Dean's nerves but the thought of Sam being so upset was pretty difficult to take. "I need to go."  
  
"You  _need_  to go and talk to Sam."  
  
A cold trickle of fear ran down Dean's back and he bit down on his bottom lip.  
  
"Dean, we don't live in the same world we did before; you know that." Jo turned slightly so she could see Dean better.  
  
"This place is full of people who've lost their families, their lovers, husbands and wives. Love.  _God_  Dean. The kind of love that makes someone look as sad and lonely as your brother looks right now is heart-breaking."  
  
 _Brother_  and  _love_  in the same sentence and Dean's heart began thumping like a fucking jackhammer.  
  
His eyes darted to the left and the right judging his ability to get away from Jo if he needed to. "I need to get back to my car. Just give Sam a chance."  
  
Jo sighed. "And Sam said that you were smart."  
  
"Should I just start walkin'?" Dean was beginning to feel a little like he was never going to get back to his car.  
  
"Yes. You should, you idiot. Right over there to the room I just left Sam in. I know you probably feel like you're doing the right thing - and there are people who might agree with you. But Dean? What the hell? The world is so different and Sam needs to be with you. You're his whole world. There's nothing wrong-"  
  
"Stop!" Dean barked. There was so much twisted up in his chest that he felt ill.  
  
Jo just stared at Dean for a while then she rested her finely-boned hand over Dean's and squeezed his fingers. "He's in the building right there." Jo pointed to one of the brick buildings they had toured earlier.  
  
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down at his boots.  
  


  
  


 

Sam was in a small room off the main hallway, just as Jo had said. The door was ajar so Dean just walked in. He stopped just out of Sam's view and watched him for a few moments.  
  
Sam was sitting on the end of the bed. His hands were clasped together and his head hung heavy between his shoulders. Jo had been right; there wasn't much about Sam that looked like he was thrilled to be staying. But Dean knew that some of that was just part of moving on.  
  
He looked defeated though, like the weight of the world had just gotten to be too much for him and he'd given up. Sam's shoulders were broad but they had their limit.  
  
The look didn't suit Sam. He was too sweet, too young, too... _Sam_  to look as though everything was lost. Not everything was his fault.  
  
It took a while before Dean could manage to step forward. Sam didn't look up but Dean knew his presence hadn't gone unnoticed. He'd taught Sam better than that. "Hey, Sam."  
  
The room was entirely too quiet to be comfortable. The small window was open and Dean could see the yard below. There was a dresser, a desk, and a bed that didn't look like it would be long enough for Sam. All the comforts of home. After a punishing amount of time Sam looked up. "Did you forget something?"  
  
"You?" Dean's boots clumped too loudly on the floor as he moved over to where Sam was sitting. When he was close enough Dean reach out and slid his fingers into Sam's hair. The way Sam leaned in to the touch made Dean's chest ache. "I talked to Jo."  
  
"Please don't give me a lecture. I was just talking about you. She said my face lit up or something like that."  
  
It should have made Dean feel great to hear those words but Sam wouldn't even look at him; his face was obscured by his long hair and Dean always felt a little lost when he couldn't see his brother's eyes.  
  
"I didn't come here to tear you a new one. I just-" Dean's voice broke and he smoothed Sam's hair back off his face.  
  
When Sam looked up there were tears welling in his eyes and Dean nearly choked on the sadness that welled up in his chest.  
  
Maybe Dean decided to take a knee in front of his brother,  _maybe_  all the strength just went right out of his legs and there was nothing he could do about it.  
  
His hands slid over Sam's ruddy cheeks and Dean brushed away a tear with his thumb. "Don't do that."  
  
Shaking his head almost imperceptibly Sam met his brother's gaze.  
  
The shock of seeing such hurt in Sam's eyes made Dean stuck in a sharp breath. "I thought I was - I don't even know. Sammy..."  
  
Dean moved closer to Sam when there was no response. He moved close enough to slide his arms around his brother's slender waist. "Come home with me."  
  
All the tension seemed to seep out of Sam's body and he almost folded into Dean's body. His long fingers curled into the material of Dean's jacket and he held on tightly.  
  
Dean pressed his lips to Sam's neck. Stubble scratched Dean's lips and he smiled as he breathed in the familiar heat of Sam's body.  
  
"Dean," Sam murmured. "I didn't want to stay here. That's not why I wanted to come."  
  
Grasping Sam's shoulders Dean moved him back so they could see each other. "Let's go. We can talk when we're home and if you want to come back, you can."  
  
"I just wanted my world to be a little bigger," Sam said softly. "But i never wanted you out of it."  
  
Because Sam  _was_  his entire world Dean couldn't really understand. But there had been enough misunderstanding between them.  
  
Dean grabbed his brother's hands. "Let's go home, Sammy."  
  


 


	7. Chapter 7

  
  
The ride back with Jo back to the Impala wasn't as bad as Dean expected. To begin with, they were able to ride in the cab. It was much better than being locked in the back. And Dean was in possession of his weapons again and felt more like himself.  
  
The three of them were a tight fit but with the windows open and Sam by his side, Dean found it quite easy to smile.  
  
They talked about the compound and some of the highlights that Sam remembered. After an hours or so, Dean found that he'd been right about Jo.  
  
Not only was the young blonde sweet and caring but she was funny and Dean could sense that she was strong. He liked her. In another world Dean would have really enjoyed hanging out with her. As it was, it would be a while before Dean wanted to go near  _Eden_  again.  
  
When they pulled up beside the warehouse Dean had never felt so relieved. Once they were inside he felt like he was the king of the world. After a quick goodbye to Jo, Dean was back behind the wheel of his car while Sam hauled the door open. He couldn't wait to get home.  
  
About an hour away from the warehouse Dean was finally relaxing. He had the music playing quietly and their windows were open. Sam held his hand out every so often and let the wind press against it. They were right where Dean thought they should be.  
  
The day was warm, the sun bright and the road clear. It was a good day for a drive. Dean kept his foot heavy on the accelerator. He wanted Sam home. He wanted any more talking they did to  _be_  at home. Home ground.  
  
So, the drive went quickly. All the miles of asphalt glided under the car; the trees along the a road were a bit of a blur.  
  
Sam commented once on the speed but Dean just laughed. There was no way he was going to slow down; the worst thing they could hit was a creeper. Dean would lose no sleep over that.  
  
By the time Sam was hauling the cabin gate open, the sun was dipping beneath the horizon. The sky was a beautiful color; so many shades of pink and purple. It was the kind of thing that Sam usually noticed. For some reason, it seemed more beautiful than usual to Dean.  
  
The gate clanked shut as Dean turned the engine off.  
  
 _Home_.  
  
 _Home with Sam._  
  
[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/twoboys2love/66949000/11445/11445_original.jpg)

After Dean climbed out of the car he stretched and then rested his arms on the roof of the car. The metal was sun-warmed and Dean could have leaned there for hours.  
  
"Why you grinning?" Sam's voice was right behind Dean.  
  
"Glad to be home." It was the absolute truth; Dean had never felt more relieved to be home.  
  
The length of Sam's body pressed up against Dean's back. They fit together perfectly. The curve of Sam's hips was against Dean's ass and Sam's hands slid around his brother's waist. Sam was pressed close enough for Dean to regret the invention of clothing.  
  
When Sam breathed, the rush of air was humid and warm against Dean's skin. He shivered and Sam tightened his arms. "Dean. Tell me what that was all about back there."  
  
"Wh-what?" Dean was pretty sure he knew what Sam meant but he was also certain he didn't want to go into all the sordid details.  
  
"You. The way you were so angry with me. Wanting to leave me there." Each word made Sam's lips brush the swoop of Dean's ear.  
  
A sigh helped Dean to settle himself. Sam's words ran through his mind even though Dean tried to ignore them. "Was nothin'. Why worry now? It's all over, right?"  
  
Sam laughed softly and the sound crept down Dean's flesh leaving a tingling trail. His right hand pushed under Dean's t-shirt and warm fingertips skipped over Dean's abs.  
  
"I wanna know what was going through your mind. Why did you get so worked up?" Sam asked in a low voice.  
  
There was only so much that Dean could take in terms of teasing but he didn't want his brother to know he was so close to his limit so quickly.  
  
All Dean could focus on was the way Sam's palm was ghosting back and forth over his belly. His lashes fluttered as he leaned his head back on Sam's shoulder.  
  
"I was scared," Dean began hesitantly. "Worried you would. You'd want to stay there." Dean sucked in a deep breath when he finished the sentence.  _Fucking_  Sam and his hands.  
  
The smooth skin of Sam's bottom lip trailed down Dean's cheek. "You left me there, Dean. I was coming back to tell you I wanted to go home."  
  
A little zing of pleasure shot around inside Dean's chest.  _Home_. The cabin was Sam's home; it was  _their_  home.  
  
Just when Dean was sorting through all the incoming sensations Sam's free hand appeared on Dean's arm. "Sam."  
  
"Yeah?" Sam's tongue darted into Dean's ear then the tip of it followed the curve of Dean's cartilage.  
  
"Can't expect me to talk when you. When you .. when you are doing this." There was sweat beading on Dean's forehead and his heart was racing.  
  
"Mhmmm." Sam's hips rolled forward and he slid a hand around to flip the button open on his brother's jeans.  
  
The zipper buzzed down quickly and Dean's palms squeaked as they slid on the roof of the car. "We're outside, Sam."  
  
"What you worried about?" Sam's body was sliding back and forth slightly and Dean could feel the insistent press of his brother's cock against his jeans.  
  
There was no real reason to go inside. Not that Dean could come up with anything intelligent with Sam all up in his personal space. "Dunno."  
  
Sam chuckled softly at Dean's inability to come up with anything. His hand pushed under Dean's jeans and boxers and his nails grazed Dean's aching hard-on.  
  
"We can go inside on one condition, Dean." While he was speaking, Sam curled his fingers around his brother's length and squeezed.  
  
"Yes," Dean blurted out. Because, in that moment, with Sam's hands on him he would give in to anything. Each time Sam squeezed his fingers around Dean's hard-on Dean could feel his balls aching.  
  
"Don't you even wanna know what I want?" Sam asked. HIs voice was raspy and his hips drove forward. Dean was trapped there between his brother's grip on his cock and the solid press of Sam's body.  
  
It was probably the  _best_  place Dean had ever been trapped. "Just  _tell_  me."  
  
Trying to grasp at anything on the slippery surface of the car Dean groaned with frustration. The best possible kind of frustration, but still.  
  
Sam dipped his knees down so he could slip his hand further down into Dean's pants.  
  
All Dean could do was gasp as his brother's hand cupped his balls. His entire body jerked and his knee banged hard into the car door. " _Fuck_ , Sammy."  
  
Sam's laughter was dark and he leaned in to whisper against Dean's ear again. "We go inside? I wanna fuck you."  
  
The language surprised Dean. He sucked in a sharp breath. He'd never let anyone -  _Jesus._. Things were still so new between them. All the sparking pleasure was insane. Dean felt a little like his brain would just shut down.  
  
Sam moaned as he pressed hard against Dean's ass. His hands were moving all over Dean's body. He clawed at Dean's denim-clad hip at the same time as he slid his fingers through the hair at the base of Dean's cock.  
  
Dean twisted his hips and pushed against the car as he tried to turn around. It felt like Sam's hands were everywhere.  
  
Sam grunted and then pulled his hand away long enough for Dean to turn and face his brother. Their mouths collided and Dean grabbed a handful of Sam's hair. He could feel the slight sheen of sweat on Sam's scalp. His brother was all heat.  
  
When their lips separated for a few moments so they could gulp down some air, Dean leaned back a little. "Yeah."  
  
Sam's eyes widened briefly then narrowed. His hand whipped out and pinned his brother's wrist to the car door. "Yes?"  
  
It was more than enough for Dean to be convinced. His heart was beating so fast it felt like he might pass out.  _Always Sam._ "Yes."  
  
Stepping back Sam tugged on Dean's wrist to pull him away from the car. There was no need for him to speak; Dean knew exactly where they were going and what was going to happen. It was the hottest thing Dean had ever experienced and they had only just begun.  
  
The brothers all but ran up the steps to the cabin. The door banged open and Sam pushed past Dean to get into the cabin first. They were stuck side by side in the door frame for a couple of second and Dean struggled free as Sam laughed darkly.  
  
They were a little more graceful getting down the hallway. There was only a brief moment of indecision when they stood between both bedroom doors.  
  
Dean wasn't sure which door to head for them then Sam shoved him. Dean stumbled into Sam's bedroom and smiled as he looked around.  
  
He'd been in there before but only to say something to Sam or drop something off. When they were together it was in Dean's bedroom.  
  
The room smelled like Sam. There were books scattered across the end of the unmade bed, and a pile of old scientific magazines just inside the door. Near the window there was one photo on the wall; it was a snapshot of Dean when he was a kid. He was standing in between their parents. It was one of the only photos they had of both their parents together. Dean felt a momentary pang of guilt that there were no photos like that with Sam in them.  
  
Big hands slid over Dean's ass then curved around his sides to finally grab his hands. Warm breath tickled the short hair at the nape of Dean's neck. "Change your mind?"  
  
Dean shook his head slowly and wove his fingers through his brother's. "No way."  
  
Sam let out a relieved sigh and freed his hands so he could pull Dean's jacket down off of his shoulders.  
  
When the leather hit the floor it started a cascade of clothing. The jackets fell, then t-shirts and jeans after boots were kicked aside.  
  
When they were completely naked Dean found himself standing there staring at Sam's body. There was sweat glistening on Sam's chest and his skin was flushed.  
  
But, Sam didn't look at all self-conscious. His stance was broad, one hand rubbing his chest. It was pretty overwhelming to look at all that muscle and flesh and know that it was for him.  
  
Sam took a few steps closer. "Jo said I'm lucky."  
  
There was a smug expression on Sam's face when he was finally standing  _right_  in front of Dean.

 

[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/twoboys2love/66949000/11706/11706_original.jpg)  
  
"Why?" Dean's fingers twitched at his side as he fought the urge to trail the perfect cut of his brother's hip.  
  
"I told her about us and she said she was interested in you. And ... I told her you weren't available." Sam pressed his hand over Dean's heart.  
  
It took a surprising amount of time for Dean to decipher what his brother had said. But then, all the blood in his body felt like it was racing to his already engorged cock.  
  
"You told her?" Dean lifted a shaking hand to slide it up the curves of Sam's midsection.  
  
As he nodded Sam curved his hands over Dean's hips and pulled him closer. Their cocks lined up and the slide of hot velvety flesh nearly blew Dean's mind. "Told her. Told her? Said we were together? Brothers?"  
  
Sam nodded again and canted his hips to slide their swollen flesh together. "Yeah. She said the world was different now."  
  
Dean's head was spinning. He was amazed no one had shot them ... or worse. "You  _told_  her?"  
  
Sam shrugged and smiled as he slid his hands up Dean's sides. They moved slowly like he was trying to map out the lay of Dean's flesh. "You think I didn't know that brothers don't usually  _want_  each other like  _this_." Sam's hands curled around Dean's neck and held him so their gazes met. "I knew it. I just don't think it matters."  
  
"Doesn't matter," Dean echoed softly. Everything was unraveling in his mind. All the walls and excuses, the reasoning. The way Dean had tried to justify his feelings and the way -  _Jesus_. Sam just blurted it out to someone knowing all the implications.  
  
And the world hadn't stopped spinning.  
  
"I-" Dean's mouth felt dry and his body felt like it was on fire. Everything was messed up and tangled and Sam kept rocking up against Dean's body.  
  
Before Dean could get another word out Sam's mouth was covering his. The heat of it made Dean's knees weaken and, somehow, they moved towards the bed.  
  
The fall to the mattress was a little like skydiving and Dean moaned.  
  
There was urgency in the way Sam was kissing his brother. His teeth nipped at Dean's bottom lip and his hands were all over Dean.  
  
The mattress was soft under Dean's body. He was trapped there by the weight of Sam's lean body. The weight of his brother was perfect.  
  
The musty scent of Sam's sweat mingled with the soap they used. Dean breathed in deeply, face momentarily buried in his brother's hair.  
  
The buzz of desire was so strong in Dean's brain that he felt a little light-headed. His senses were overloaded with  _Sam_. The salt of Sam's sweat was on Dean's lips, the slick flesh of his brother's muscular back against Dean's palms. He could feel pleasure sliding through his veins with every sweep of his brother's tongue through his mouth and lost all control over his focus. Every time Sam shifted, more  _want_  rippled through Dean's body.  
  
Sam's big hands cupped the cheeks of Dean's ass and Sam dug his fingers into the muscles.  
  
A moan slipped past the seal of Dean's lips and he could no longer help the way his hips jerked forward. He  _wanted_  his aching cock sliding against his brother's.  
  
Then a slick, cool finger was pushing for entrance into Dean's ass. His body jolted towards his brother's and Sam's lips found his brother's ear again.  
  
"Dean, relax," Sam whispered.  
  
Part of Dean wanted to make a wise crack but then Sam's thick finger pushed inside.  
  
It was a strange, dull, ache of a pain. It was like nothing Dean had experienced before. But there was something about the sensation that made Dean's heart thump even faster.  
  
The heat of Sam's mouth continued its path over Dean's face as his fingers worked Dean's body open.  
  
Dean tried to stay calm, breathe slowly, but the pleasure circulating through him was fueling a fire that was impossible to ignore. His hips began to move almost frantically.  
  
The slide of their cocks together just  _never_  seemed enough. As Sam's fingers worked his hole open Dean pushed back for more. He was lost and didn't know how to move or what to reach for.  
  
"Sam," Dean growled. His nails clawed down Sam's back and he lifted his leg to lay it over Sam's slender hips. They seemed to get even closer and Sam's fingers slid deeper and Dean grunted softly.  
  
" _God_ , Dean. Keep breathing," Sam said into his brother's mouth. Their lips crashed together  _hard_  and Dean tasted the familiar, metallic flavor of blood. His tongue chased the flavor and pressed it to Sam's tongue.  
  
Their bodies writhed and twisted together and then Dean's world spun on its axis. Sam grabbed his brother's shoulders and flipped him. For a few moments Dean's face was buried in the mattress. He planted his hands on the quilt and arched his back so he could suck in a deep breath.  
  
Sam rolled over Dean's body and slid his hands up his brother's arms until their fingers wove together.  
  
There was no way Dean could get away; not that he wanted to. The weight of Sam felt amazing. He could feel his brother's sweat, the way his chest heaved as he panted. And as Sam's fingers tightened in Dean's, nails dug into his palms.  
  
Soft lips pressed gently to Dean's neck and then he felt the nudge of Sam's cock at his entrance. A dull pain rippled through Dean once more but it was quickly followed by pleasure.  
  
As Sam's cock slid deeper the  _painpleasure_  waves continued to roll over Dean until he was moaning or begging. Whatever noise he was making seemed to please Sam because it spurred him on.  
  
Dean held on to Sam's hands tightly and arched his spine until it was almost painful.  
  
The burn increased as Sam's cock slid deeper and then the breath was knocked out of Dean when Sam thrust his hips forward.  _Hard._  
  
Dean let out a low cry as Sam's cock filled him. The soft press of Sam's balls made Dean gasp. He felt stretched and full and wanted Sam to move.  
  
As soon as Dean tipped his hips up, Sam moaned and pumped his cock in his brother's ass. Dean could see that Sam's arms were shaking he could hear how ragged Sam's breathing was.  
  
Another thrust made Dean bite down on his bottom lip. The snap of Sam's hips drove the head of his cock into Dean's prostate and it was like his spine was being peeled out of his body. His vision went blurry and a burst of pleasure and heat made his heart pause then lurch forward against his chest.  
  
Then each thrust was on target and Dean could barely manage to breathe in between. The complete burn of desire that was welling inside him was all encompassing.  
  
Their bodies were slick with sweat and Dean could feel the tickle of Sam's hair between his shoulder blades when he thrust his hips forward.  
  
He could hardly breathe through the onslaught of sensation. His ass ached, his muscles stretched to the limit and his back was arched to the point where he felt it would snap. He could feel the weight of Sam's body; the push of his cock deeper inside. And nearly every damn time the hard flesh pushed into Dean an explosion of pleasure snatched his breath away. His lashes would flutter closed and his tongue would rub over his dry lips, craving the taste and feel of Sam's mouth.  
  
It was all going crazy inside Dean's mind. He could feel his orgasm looming and he knew that Sam was close. The speed and force of Sam's thrusts had increased and his arms were shaking as his fingers curled even tighter.  
  
Somehow, Sam managed to free one of his hands and got a grip on Dean's hair so he could pull  _hard_.  
  
As Dean's head snapped back he felt Sam's hot breath against his ear. Dean tried to push up with his arms but each thrust of Sam's cock made Dean's muscles a little weaker.  
  
Trembling, sweating, cock aching, balls tight, Dean tilted his hips so Sam would slide even deeper. The way he was tilting his hips, he found that he could slide his own aching hard-on against the quilt. The slight vibration edged Dean up to the precipice then it was the shudder of Sam's body and Sam's moan that made Dean's orgasm crackle through his body.  
  
He felt too much of everything all at once and let out some kind of sound before his jaw went slack. Heat flooded through Dean's body as come pumped from his burning cock.  
  
The sticky, wet heat slid over Dean's skin. He moaned as Sam shuddered against him. Sam pumped his cock a few more times then his hips snapped forward and he just froze there, trembling. His huge cock pulsed and Dean could feel the pressure of heat as his brother came.  
  
When Sam finally collapsed on Dean's body, they just lay there panting and twitching.  
  
"God," Dean muttered into the quilt. His chest was aching and every now and again his hips would twitch as the dying throes of his orgasm moved through him.  
  
He thought he felt Sam nod but couldn't be sure. Sam's sweat damp hair was all over Dean's neck and shoulders and he was lazily mouthing his way along Dean's shoulder. He mumbled something, maybe, Dean couldn't understand it so he just huffed a weak laugh. "Off."  
  
Sam let out a miserable noise and kind of  _melted_  off his brother's body.  
  
Dean fought with his muscles to turn his head so he could see Sam's face.  
  
His brother's face was flushed, glistening with sweat. Wisps of Sam's hair were plastered wetly to his temples and cheeks.  
  
"You look ... good," Dean murmured. His head was still swimming and he pressed his lips closed so he didn't say anything else that might give away his feelings.  
  
"We're doin' it that way more often," Sam almost growled.  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
"You loved it."  
  
Dean made a dismissive noise but he knew his slack features and tousled hair were a sign that his brother was right.  
  
Something in Sam's expression changed and he looked a little serious. "Still want me to go toEden?"  
  
It was hard for Dean to believe that, after everything, Sam could still feel insecure - but then the look on his brother's face wasn't as serious after all and the moment of insecurity seemed to have passed.  
  
"I never wanted you to go; I just wanted you to have the choice," Dean said quietly.  
  
It must have been the right answer because Sam's brow smoothed completely and his lips curved into a bright smile.  
  
"And, Dean? If what I choose is  _you_?" Sam reached out and trailed his fingers down Dean's chest.  
  
"Then," Dean began as he shifted closer. "We both get what we want."  
  
Dean didn't wait to see if his brother smiled. He just covered Sam's mouth with his own and  _showed_  him all the things he never managed to say to him.

-=-=- END -=-=-


End file.
